Esther's Memory
by BadMonster-Fr
Summary: What was Esther's life before be adopted by the Coleman's family ? How did she escaped from this psychiatric hospital ? Did someone helped her ? It's a little innocent for an only 9 years old girl, don't you think ? That's the story of, that's the glory of love. Please leave reviews, really want to know your opinion about it! R&R !
1. Introduction

**- Esther's Memory - **

**Introduction**

Some, thought me raving mad. The question in my view angle arose differently.  
Was I crazy, or was they crazy? My opinion was contested relentlessly, they had apparently compelling evidence of ambient psychosis. But what about my thoughts ? If I was crazy at this point, why my thoughts were still such that they were. There was no changement.

Is that obsessive love is seen as unreal? As madness, pure and simple ? Was it inconceivable for them ? On second thought, my madness might be the cause of their unease about this, or was it that they thought being possessed by romance was a permanent sign of mental derangement.  
I knew no one like me, reached my same disease. I was unique, but, at the same time, alone and misunderstood in everyone's eyes. Each of the nurses, each of the physicians. Every person dealing with my mental state, and judging me at the same time, by my physical condition. I am suffering from a rare disease, in scientific language and in the the hospital, it is called hypopituitarism.

Have you any idea what you can feel when you reach adulthood, but your whole body do claim only, childhood and youth. Some people might find this a wonderful remedy, against the passage of time, against old age, which moves gradually.

Am I considered crazy because I think differently from those people ? For me this disease is nothing but a part of my life, forever hidden under the guise of a girl, and if one thing I would leave away, it would be that one.

And even if I wear this appearance that everybody wants, when approach fifties, I am not satisfied with my life as I should. Day and night locked in a straitjacket, no friends and no one to confide myself. I have time to think, imagine you well. A 9 year old girl like me, locked up and restrained by straps without stopping, with no possibility of freedom.

Normal people would they not have pity ? For this little girl whose main quest is love, happiness. This little girl whose eyes shining and crystalline and inspires a quiet confidence and limitless. Whose black hair ebony are always impeccably coiffed, and whose face dotted with freckles smiled without resistance against power a few simple demonstrations of feelings. And which, abandoned by her jacket and wearing evening dress, the body may look thin and attractive.

I'm like that, a woman who neglects neither her physical nor her feelings. But my whole body is abnormal. I'm abnormal. Despite the secrets I hide always, the truth is always revealed to me. Nobody, ever and forever. Sentenced to talk alone, talk with these people who will never be there. I'm crazy, so it is. Such is my nature.

My name is Leena Klammer. And my current residence is Saarne Institute, Estonia, a psychiatric hospital. I'm sick of all the ways you want but for me, I'm just a victim of a rare disease. I am thirty two years old now, but I have to look like nine until the end of my life. And to summarize my situation, I'm alone ... and orphan.


	2. Chapter 1 - Saarne Institute

**Chapter 1:**

The Institute Saarne is a huge building, look like a castle. A place where you can consider yourself secure, protected from all physical attacks. A place to spend a holiday in a lovely spot of ground, surrounded by majestic trees, flora mostly composed of white flowers. My favorites are roses. White, all that is purest as color, is not it?

White, like the frontage of this huge hospital. The only dark points are the tops of the towers, pointed and reaching towards the sky like lightning seeking.

A castle, as in fairy tales that they read me for calm down, after sting me in advance. A masterful castle, as in "Beauty and the Beast." And as in the same writing, the beasts are the kings, so to speak, although controlled.

There are all kinds of sick here, some even sometimes allowed to go outside, but they do not really appreciate the ambient temperature, and wind somewhat present in the highlands where the place is. I have no right. According to the doctors I'm dangerously affected. I remain imprisoned, confined. Immobile.

Reflecting the entire hospital, consisting of long corridors, cold and gloomy, my room is a single color. White. A bed in the middle, where I'm obviously lying. Retained in my straightjacket, they at least had the sympathy of left me extented. I wake up, and as every day, casts a glance around me.

Improper movement of the neck makes me stifle a cry of pain. Bleeding, as my wrists. How long, for once, have I struggled to get out of this damn jacket?

But the syringes of sedatives are, unfortunately for me, never far away. Excruciating pain includes my members. I was probably in the high-dose yesterday. Do not move. That's all they expect. I do nothing. I do not remember anything.

The ticking of the clock is permanent. It echoes in my head every day, every night. Every minute that passes, like an eternity. And actually, also if I'm mad as decreed, I know every visitation schedules, medical course, on the fingertips. Indeed, although family visits were allowed, I will not receive one. Simply because before being interned, I was just as lonely as I am now. And the only people who have given me confidence are dead in unimaginable suffering.

Suffering they have themselves chosen. I maybe killed them, but by their only fault. With a shudder, I remember bits and pieces of memories. Those who never could be effaced from my memory.

Snow, pure and white. A lake of blood, a knife in the back. Hit hard, as my hatred was deep. As deep as his wounds. He had refused to me.

A couple holding hands. For ever. The man, an unconditional lover. The woman, a young idiot without deep feelings, who only wanted to use him. I wanted to prevent. He had ignored. She had left. I killed them. Be with her for eternity, that's what he wanted, right?What is more beautiful than love?

A dark night without stars. Rain falling in fine drops and thunder rumbling as if the heavens wanted to show me his anger. In the distance I saw the lights flashing lights, the unmistakable sound of a police car. I did not feel the urge to run away again. Everything happened because of them. Their need to discover who I was and where I came from, was it really necessary? Not in my opinion. They had killed themselves. Their fault, not mine.

It is eight o'clock in the morning when the first man arrives. He moves slowly, is wearing a long white coat, a notebook in hand. His gait is slow, fluid, as if he was suspicious of my movements. What do want you I against to you, idiot? I'm locked up! He leans towards and look my body, grimacing.

-You should stop debating you, he said.

He auscultates my neck and wrists, making sure that the wounds are not infected. They cleans them and wraps them in a bandage. I wince in my turn, I would scream but he inject me a sedative, which cuts me immediately. He then goes to make way for a nurse, certainly less qualified, just give me a room.

A classic menu, soup, jelly, mashed potatoes. I have simply to open my lips and push it all to the bottom of the gullet. I have become accustomed, after a few years here. But I never give up on my actions. I debate slightly, but enough to make him spill the soup bowl which fits in his hand.

Her white dress stained now, and he fixes me a dirty look that I return immediately. He then turns away and begins to clean up himself a bit before continuing to feed me, taking care to be out of my reach. So that I do not start. It's a fun little exercise, that I try sometimes. Doctors are mostly very informed is wary of the patients of the Institute. Nurses are the opposite, and knowing the most part, they are all as stupid and clumsy as each other. They are the guardians, but could not defend himself to anyone. Not even me.

I smiles, an idea through my head. Doctors back again and finally start off to open my straps. My body is found naked and covered with my own blood. They do not seem to even more embarrassed than me. They transport me to a small room, which is entirely devoted to me.

There is a long bath and a wash basin topped by a mirror. There is also a huge window that is never fully closed, always letting a thin stream of air in the room. White is always the dominant color. The air is frigid, but I don't care about and let me do when they train me in the water.

They clean up me, wash me of my blood, being careful not to touch one of my scars. Otherwise, they know what they might happen. The translucent color of water turns reddish in one second.

They dry me and wrap me in a long hot bath robe, three times too big for me. One of the doctors just take me, left me in front of the mirror to admire my reflection. I only see the crack in the middle. He untangles my hair and carefully brushes while drying. Satisfied with his work, he watches me in the mirror again.

You see-well, you is not so terrible, he exclaims, forcing himself to smile slightly.

-I do not consider myself someone terrible ...

It does not pay attention to my last words, uttered so low that I also doubt that he has heard. He looks at me one last time before me back on my bed.

A other man, hands me a silk nightgown, color mint (the fashion of white did it go?) and helps me to put it on.

The doctors are busy to do a series of analyzes of all kinds, ranging from eye test until Rorschach test. For those of you that this name means nothing to you, this test is to look at two symmetrical ink blots and tell what it inspires you. And this is done, then they check my mental faculties. Why, I ask you. They thought they really were dying, overnight?

This part ended there, and they leave me, wander into my room. Like all every days, each week, for about an hour. There is not much to do here, but I always know how to take care of me. A sheet of paper waiting for me on a high table in mahogany, is placed near a color palette and some brushes. Different models that I like more or less. I choose one, the red, macule vigorously my sheet. This was followed by yellow, green, gray. Any colors helping me to represent my thoughts as real and imaginary, in the same direction.

An hour passed, a painting done. It lack one tiny detail and before it was over that table. They advise me time and then stop free time, but I would like to finish. They shake my arm forcefully, wanting to train with them. But I will not let me do, and pushes the best I can. They made insistent. And finally, having had enough of fighting, I turn around and tries to push one of my brushes in his mouth.

They then seize me by the wrists. I scream in pain. I would cut my arms, never to feel this pain, burns more when one touches me. No more thrills, this is what I want. And while I debate with ferocity, they buckle my straps and keep me lying with hand of iron, again on my bed. I only have time to see the infusion dig into my arm. I sink into the shadows and the dark. No more feelings, just what I wanted. The only feeling of floating between heaven and earth, in a world different from mine. And amid its depths, I distinguish a familiar silhouette. A duplicate of myself older. The woman I would never be. A distant memory on top of that. My mother.  
I look at her, fix her with intently. I want her to understand. That the absence of love had begun by her when she had abandoned me. I hated him, inevitably. And during the first ten years of my life, I only knew that hatred, anger, for this woman whose future of her child did not matter. For who, give birth to a sick child like me, who never grow old, was presented in a form of curse. Inside her, my mother was a low, one of those people who disgust me to the highest point. I'm in my world, my dream, still floating. Seeming spirit, ghost. Dead. I sees me, and tears streaming down my cheeks child, sparkling like the sun amidst the shade. A little love, it was everything I wanted, my last request. Simply.

The silhouette of my mother's die, fantasy, imagination. Mine stays in its place. Waiting for what would not come back. And I disappear, at my turn. A current white and rose through the black space in is strident tearing. A second follows. Then a third. All identical. All sense of rebels crossed, . They knock the walls of my imaginary bubble, each in a horrible crash. I guess they probably never will calm down. They are my light sources.

Lightning woke me with a start. My face is dripping with tears, not fully dreamed. My body perspires in great waves. Just a nightmare, as very often. I watch the sky now veiled in a black coat, through the huge window near my bed, close to my canvas painted in the afternoon. I think back to the doctors; strange that they did not removed for a closer look. A new thunder sounded and the red of my painting is reflected, as in this murderous night. I watch the first man. These three people I killed. This is them, on my painting. In the middle of a blazing fire. Fully burned from the inside as well as from the outside. My mother is also there. Headless. And it may ultimately be better.


	3. Chapter 2 - Sullivan

**Chapter 2: **

So I live. I interned at the Institute Saarne, for about two years of my life. I accumulate boredom, impatience. I learned that my scars are too deep to expect their disappearance in the future. My state is stagnant, does not improve. The days are similar. I sigh slowly. I have enough of this life, monotonous and tasteless. Without color, without feelings. Without anything tangible. My head turn; sometimes, I see dreams as if I was delusional and that I would wake up one minute to another. The clock strikes, announces eight hours, doctors are unlikely not long now for me from my bonds. To repeat their same exercice, constantly, tirelessly. As each day.

They were six in number, however, one of those seems to me abroad. It opened wide eyes when I lay my eyes on him. A doctor comes first check the status of my wounds, then passes a disinfectant on my neck. I really want to fight but I do not arrive at anything anyway. I moaned only when the liquid comes in contact with my skin. He reapplies for new bandages and gives way to another man who comes to give me my meal of the day. I understood, finally, that most of those are made of light materials and inconsistent. No doubt for me to avoid suffocation in a crisis. The meal is happening, for once, in the tranquility. I do not want to frighten the newcomer, at least not yet.

This is a new nurse, I realized as and as I see it moving around me, wander with the others. He looks like a wardrobe, which can transport anything, anyhow. His hair is short, brown, and eyes the same color. He is dressed like any other, but I see it is yet far short of their experience. His gait is hesitant to air it unsure of himself, of his abilities. He trembles slightly when the doctors challenge him. He air-cheesy, fragile. Even a little unstable. Surely he is here for a last resort. It does not really seem to understand what he has done. He also, takes me more for a child than for a crazy killer?

I only have time to ask the question to me, the doctors already open my prison of canvas. The new gulped at the sight of my body, while others carry me into the bathroom. I toss him a second look, ironic, provocative. But a low never responds to this stuff. Monitored by doctors, I wash in silence. It was one of my progress, get to be able to clean my body by myself. I always avoid my scars, and apply myself to rinse the parts where the soap foam. I proceeded slowly, first to do not splash guards, because they'd be able to inject a dose of sedative in the second. Secondly, because, for once, the water is warmer than freezing. The only drawback is that the window, also present in the room, is wide open. I remain in the tub, more for comfort than swimwear in itself.

The nurse brown I knew earlier I attended today. This is a rare thing, because nurses are often used for simpler tasks. Such as meals, blood tests and things like that. But after the excitement that I witnessed this morning, the comings and goings of personnel among others, the status of a madman to deteriorate during the night. So the doctors are probably more concerned about his health than mine. He approaches cautiously and handed me the robe that I took with a sneer. I sneered at the very moment because when he perceive me naked, he became as red as a tomato. Why are you embarrassed like that, boy? I'm only a child, after all.

I turned towards the mirror, which I learned to decipher the reflection. I look at myself, keeping an eye on man behind me. The nurse walks a brush on my hair raven black, abandoned by the color of my blood, gently unwinding. Being careful not to pull when it crosses a node, not to go too fast so as not to hurt me by accident. Strange. As if he was afraid to hurt me. Destroy me. Thing he does not doubt that this is already done.

-You could be attractive if you were older, he throws me finally.

His voice trembles as always, maybe more. I sigh, slowly, pushing me to keep myself calm. What come to do a nurse, caring for me, so he probably did not mind me know, me and my condition. In these cases, it would probably disgusted, as each of them. It does not seem like that. It does not seem to understand why he's there, or why I'm here. He seems misunderstood. Like myself. It almost makes me pity.

"Even if I were, nobody would come for me. Who, do you think, love me ? I'm just a girl orphan, you know. And moreover, confined to a psychiatric hospital. I wouldn't permission to move or speak. What would use to have a family, if I do not share anything with them ? Neither love nor feelings ? "This is what I wanted to tell him, but my lips are forever closed. These are only thoughts that I can not grasp, dreams, I can not get them to be real.

It try to master himself, he throw a sigh and tries to calm down. Stop his tremors that make him more stupid than anything else. Forefinger touches my wrist. I tremble. I remain silent. No sound comes out of my throat. I feel watching me insistently. Accuracy.

-You should hide those nasty things he said then.

He keeps watching them without discomfort. As for me, I tremble for all my members, I am exactly the opposite. As if maintaining this contact, he had transmitted a disease more, unknown to date. This is the first time. Most doctors and nurses who care for me, just make sure my health as mental, as well as physical, simply because it is their job to ensure my recovery. This one also uncertain, probably, but who cares.

It looks different. It is not like them. At least not completely. This may be because he did not read carefully my health card, or I know not what other paparasse about me, me and my illness. And I realize the next day and other days, he is more concerned with me for making me happy at first, to make me feel good about my image, and perhaps as well for feel more confidence in me. In him. It would probably I reveal myself to him, but despite that, I do not want.

It behaves differently from others, it's a fact, but I do not forget that he is still one of their own. I experienced several times, months, years, with doctors brutal, sadistic nurses who liked the idea of seeing me suffer. And if he was merely a diversion, just to test me? Service to those who wish me ill, so to prove that my psychosis is more present than ever, considering my lack of progress.

For several days, he has come every morning, and is associated with the same task, that of the bath. There seems to have fun, not without me staring, something that don't bother him now, but also by the fact of seeing me improve my physical performances. I do not really understand his enthusiasm, again, when it brings him nothing. At least that the fact to help me, give him reach a higher bonus. And if this is not the case, I do not really see the interest for him. A sound take me out of my torpor psychological. He plunges his hand into his coat and leaves a red ribbon, long enough to form a bracelet.

-Take it, and wrap it around a wrist, I would bring in new ones to the others later. Its gives you a very cute and coquettish air. Little princess he said, smiling.

I hesitate to take, look for long seconds. Why would anyone want to offer me something? Especially to help me get better? My hypothesis seems valid, but perhaps not enough to accept it. It leaves me no time to think more, and he tie the vermeil ribbon around the wrist , secretly hiding my wounds, printed forever in the depths of my flesh.

-It's better that way, you're not you agree? He asks.

I nod, doubtful and decides to keep it on the left wrist. I stared at him then, throwing her a questioning look.

-The doctors will pay you less attention, probably will help.

I let a smile in the end. I did not even know I was capable. All the time spent to hate, to keep a cold, hard face. Without visible emotion, like a marble statue. I was hardly aware of my actions and facial while it brings me back to my room, I think about the following events.

The expected outcome is good. They do not doubt even that I hide if only the slightest pain. There are also a real improvement since. I feel different, I hide my fears, my memories of horror under the banner of color blood. Gradually, I do not feel equal to an object, that we analyze, test, uses. Moments of insecurities come when they remove them. I scream, I debate, balance foot and poigs for force them to let me. I met identitic situations some times. Solar plexus, tibia, genital part, head, groin. Most are still too hefty to suffer, and do not pay very little attention, except the one I had broken the nose by an elbow good positioned.

But every morning, Sullivan back and gives me what I lost. My hope, my desire while he tying me a new ribbon. I finally found out his name during an altercation with other members of the medical team. Sullivan. I call it so, but only internally. I do not speak, I'm still speechless when he is with me. And I do not want give him, not even a second of my life time. He bought me a Bible. Small, whose last pages are marked with the initials of the Saarne Institute . History to remember. He is practitioner religious, so he tells me about God, Jesus and all these people I know nothing. I listen to it without envy, at first, but he puts so much heart that I choose to apreciate his actions instead of ignoring it. He sings prayers sometimes, I learn all sorts of things. He told me that God created us all for a purpose, a reason or another. What am I then? Creating crazy? Silly idea? Punishment? Why am I here? All these questions that remain unanswered then. He discovered me, without stopping, thinking. About myself, my future, my future life, my presence on this Earth. I only dothat, because the rest does not interest me more. Not more than before also. My attitude intrigue, but eventually get used to it, even to smile about. One day, he finally throws me the answer I was looking for ages.

-God is not evil ... if you created it, why would you be?


	4. Chapter 3 - Escape

**Chapter 3:**

-I have the impression that you get lonely ... I'm wrong?

His sentence is whispered in absolute silence. His voice no longer trembling. Being with me during these few weeks has had a positive effect on his behavior and professionalism, especially when loading large spots in the hospital. He comes every day to see me, give me a bracelet that they always removed me the following hours.

It also speaks to me, often. But I do not respond and am content to nod, smile, think. Sometimes sign, having learned a little from him. This does not prevent him from continuing to ask me thousand questions, that always stay unanswered, each time. However, he talk, quite often. He tells me about his family, his wife and her two "wonderful" children that he loves. Of his earlier work, where he learned to sign for deaf patients. His active work. People he loves. That is what comprise most of our short conversations.

He looks at me to swim, my body floating in the translucent water. And as I remained silent, don't do any gestures or words to him, he turns away. I watch him leave, then get up and rinse one last time before entering a waiting towel on the radiator. It does not heat anything for over a century, this one, but whatever. I quickly dry while Sullivan's silhouette reappears in the corner of the room. It is more crowded than usual, he wears a huge mattress it casts on the ground.

He closes the door and hands me my robe, always colorless, helping me to pull gently. Don't paying too much attention on his mattress and use of which I have no idea, I let them. After that, he begins to dry my hair and pull me so to do my hair in a long ponytail. I look for a moment in the cracked mirror and realize how much time spent at the Institute has changed me. Namely by observing the dark circles under my eyes, caused by constant sleepless nights. Sometimes awakened by nightmares, sometimes by lightning

-Leena?

I meet his gaze, looking me in the eye. I toss him a quizzical look, then he hesitated a while and finally said to me.

-I have two children, two little angels, who fill me with happiness. I wanted a third, but my wife could not bear it, as her two previous deliveries are tired ... he hesitates again. Leena ... believe you ... you ... could this child be?

I do not understand you Sullivan. You, who must take care of me, you, who must earn money by running here, you, who want to preserve his family from evil. Who just want happiness, why would you want from me?! This child ... this child ... this child ...? His words are echoes endless.

I hold out my hands, waiting. What should I do? How unthinkable possibility could become real? I absolutely would. But how could you my dear Sullivan? How could I, when I'm chained here? I follow his eyes, now fixed on the huge mattress, a meter wide, two at most. A cold air reaches me. I turn around and observe the impressive window wide open.

-Leena?

For a brief moment, my head spins. The image of man posted before me, is changing. Long black hair, wrapping a frail body in pale complexion. "Why are you coming back again mom?"

These are my thoughts, but act with efficiency. The silhouette is blurred in the neck, wrists. Scars, appearing similar to mine. His body is changing, dons a nightgown. A pair of scissors nearby fleet, and with a sharp, cutting the long black hair, now arriving as shoulders. I look at her face. His features are also changing. Small brown spots become visible here and there. His eyes, black before, now are deep blue, dotted with orange around his ward. This one, less dilated, applies to watch me.

In fact, this is not it staring at me. It's just me. A mirror. Me. Leena Klammer. Suddenly, a crack appears. On my forehead, my head splitting in two. Then another, in my neck. And yet another, and another. My body is broken into pieces. I am a desert. Dry, lacking water. I notice the clouds in the distance, but pushed by the wind, in the opposite direction. I look away, my face is breaking down, little by little. Mouldering.

I try to regain my composure. I shake my head and look back toward the mirror, the real. However, I am the same as in my mind. Alone and missing of something. Important need, otherwise, the crack could break me. I see Sullivan, posing a great look at the reflection. His voice sounds again. Asking this same question. I fixed my blank stare and emotionless, but manages to find traces of evil. A quick smile forms on my face. I breathe a breath of fresh air. Deep, extremely slowly.

-I follow you.

He eyes widen, stunned. Maybe he thought I was dumb after all? I see him try to recover quickly. He gets up and grabs the mattress makes it difficult to go through the window. I follow it by my eyes, a few meters down, until it crashed between wreaths of snow. He unlocks the door, check that the hallway is silent and lifeless, and opens it, without any noise. I Frisian slightly as he accompanies me to the window. I swallowed, staring at the large gap separating me from the ground, cling to me and straddles the border separating the vacuum. I breathe, the air enters my lungs ice. I breathe again. I'm not weak.

I release my grip and let myself plummet into the void. I hear a noise, like broken glass. Voices echo through the corridors, they come running, come see what happens. I gasp by the fall. Extended, as dead, on the mattress. This one, although very broad, is not enough to hold after a fall of 4 meters.

-She's gone by that way! Exclaims Sullivan

I listen and hear footsteps away then, only the wind in my ears still. Several seconds pass, during which I refuse to move. I do not know what to do, where to direct me. My breathing is slow, I get with no great enthusiasm. Sullivan spends his head out the window. I see his neck tied with a bandage, stained red. What have you done?

He tries to call me, but my senses stunned no longer understand his words. It gives me a purpose, I see fall in my direction. I place my hands so I had to protect the head, and look at the keychain that has just arrived at their destination. I observe its constitution. Three keys, but one particularly attracts my attention. An acronym inquiring me about its origin. A car. I look again at Sullivan makes me a gesture. "Go away, search it!" That's what I translate.

I get up with difficulty, seeking air, again and again. I starts to wander in the snow. I do not have to fear that they found me because of my footprints, as the snow falls fast enough to cover them all in the blink of an eye. I'm wearing that this simple robe, and while the white flakes raining able to do more, I'm still looking. Constantly. For many minutes. The snowy fog thickens, so that I can no longer distinguish the building which I was trapped. I'm cold. I'm hungry. I crossed that out of nothing. I force myself to walk, however, to continue. For it is my only option. I have no idea what time, nor any idea where I am. Have I may be too far?

I get up with difficulty, seeking air, again and again. I starts to wander in the snow. I do not have to fear that he found me because of my footprints, as the snow falls fast enough to cover them all in the blink of an eye. I'm wearing that this simple robe, and while the white flakes raining, I'm still looking. Constantly. For many minutes. The snowy fog thickens, so that I can no longer distinguish the building which I was trapped. I'm cold. I'm hungry. I crossed that out of nothing. I force myself to walk, however, to continue. For it is my only option. I have no idea what time, nor any idea where I am. Have I may be too far?

My feet are dragging slowly. For some time now that I no longer feel them. Like my hands. Damn snow!

I drop to my knees, my bare skin comes into contact with the snow. Icy. As slippery as ice. I realize that the appearance of ice is very uncommon in a park. I look straight ahead, but still see nothing. I sigh, a white mist coming out of my lips, just warms me. I mark the ice and follow the road, advancing on all fours, searching constantly a black shadow, color metal. Long minutes pass again, I make a stop, set my hand, reddened by the cold and snow. I shiver, testing me warm by any means. All ineffective. I hear cries in the distance, the sound of footsteps. Many. People are panicking, looking for me. I must hurry.

I try to get my way, when my head butting. I look up and glimpse a door. Finally. I get up, staggers. Insensitive. And undertake to press the key to open. My fingers slide on the body. I reiterate my operation, but something is blocking. I identify the lock and see that my key is inconsistent. I swear. I can see other shadows. Dozens. I walked over to them, each of the cars, trying, testing, but my key does not work for any of them. I still have one more. But I'm exhausted. I can not move. I collapse on his truck. I no longer feel any of my members, reasons duent cold but, again, to my fall to escape. My limbs are dead. And I will not delay to do the same. Snow falls, covers me, merges with my coat, forms a layer, a snow cover. The mist is everywhere now, silence is more present than ever. It stifles everything. Even my whining. I'm frozen, refrigerated. I could no longer sunlight. My vision blurred, merges with the fog. I waiting him. Because he promised to me.

Arms lift me. Gently heat. A hand landed on my face, caress lovingly. I hear a sound, an opening. I lay on the passenger seat, I removed my robe dipped and covered me with a blanket. It takes me between her arms, hug me, I whisper things in his ear. I remain unconscious. But I feel everything. I see everything. I cling to his neck, feeling his heart beating in rhythm identical to mine, as a last hope. This is what it is. My eyes blink weakly, and his voice echoes in my head. Clattering sound, pushes me to stay conscious. My arms fall, my hands in blood. I am exhausted, I do not give up. My eyelids are half open and I see him. My eyes linger on the scarlet liquid, oozing from his neck, through the bandages.

-Sorry, I had to find an excuse. In this case, attack me seemed to be good. Do not worry I'm fine. I'll take care of you princess. You arrive to talk to me again? How do you feel? Is that you can move?

"Questions, questions, more questions. Please shut up then. "My index finger moves and poses, slowly, her lips parted. He smiled for a moment, raises his own index, and repeat my actions. Always on his person.

It replaces the wick black bar my face, without a sound. Passes his fingers through my hair, and caress me, gently. Reassures me. Calms me. I then decided, at last.

-Thank you.


	5. Chapter 4 - Poor integration

**Chapter 4:**

The wheels emit low noise, the engine purrs I just hear it, the snow covering every rustle of trees, each wanting less noise disturbed the silence. I hear his voice speaking to me. I do not pay much attention, absorbed by the road that stretches in front of me. It's been so long, that the traces of a civilization, other than the hospital, I was not able to me. The fog is lifted and I can see all the things that I was no longer available for years. Free. I am finally.

Sullivan and his family lived in a huge house. He came from a Russian family, who had left him, in my opinion, a lot of wealth. The house thus consisted of six rooms, divided into two floors, of which one was meant for me. It was much smaller than the previous, but the horrors that occupied my mind, and that brought me back to the Institute constantly disappearing smoothly, thanks to her, as I very well contented. The whitish color everywhere in the hospital was only a brief appearance. The walls were pink, very pale. One window was present, but letting through the light of the sun without any problems, sifted through the taffeta curtains, those of a burgundy red. A room like any other children's rooms.

There were huge living room, where the technology was little but this was blatant modernity. The television was of normal size, placed on a steel cabinet. Based magazines on the coffee table, placed near a leather sofa. Behind this one, you could find a new table, taller, solid wood.

The kitchen had a large work which presented some cooking utensils, including knives, pots, pans, whisks.

And to finish the bathroom, tub and shower, separate, included. The space was too small, however, so that we can return there in two. So almost exact replica of mine, apart from many beauty products placed on the sink, a mirror was also there. But never more the crack would not be seen.

My life became better. Peaceful. My tongue was loosened, each day more and I no longer felt any difficulty speaking. In a house that was slowly becoming mine. But after two months spent in this pleasant home, I realized that my family was not as perfect as I imagined. Indeed, Ms. Sullivan was an execrable character to her husband. She suspected him of cheating, quarreling incessantly about it, although if he did was never done. He was a loving father and husband. He was everything for me. From the beginning. When he introduced me, he pretended to have found me on the road, frozen in the snow. It really was not lying. He asked me not to reveal my name, it would harm me. He had not quoted the Institute once. I judged he did not say anything to others, but they bore him so little interest that would have had no impact in their own lives. It was a sort of secret, shared between us. Everyone had swallowed.

However his children saw me with a jaundiced eye. They had no right to return to my room, they watched me walk down the hallways, sometimes, talking to an invisible person. They thought I was strange and incomprehensible. Asked me questions of all kinds, mostly silly. "What are those ribbons around your wrists?" "Why you do not like the others? What a shame! You know that's why we rejected you "" Why are you dressed like that? "My way I dressed was, probably, the only thing that allowed me to connect to my age. Perhaps because the things that I just wore not really corresponded me. Did not correspond to the desires of clothes of girls of my age, but more to the desires of women of mature age. But what was my age, after all? Sullivan saw no disadvantage to me to wear long dresses, skirts or frilly satin vests, a few years old. But again, it was the only one.

I remember the first night spent at home. I could not sleep, I was attacked by my morbid memories and love. I was down on the lower floor, and installed myself on the sofa, stretched, reflective. Now what? What would I become?

I got up and watched the place now where I would live. I missed something, but I did not know what. I was sitting cross-legged in front of the bay window of the salon. I stared at the sky filled with stars, watching them shine, light up. I always imagined that the stars pictured each of souls Ascending to Heaven. Maybe my victims were looking at me as such. And perhaps this was why I did not sleep.

I try to put my actions into account, see me guilty, but I could not do it. Maybe because I was finally over myself. I had radically changed. I was no longer Leena. I do not wear one for that matter, even the first name.

-What are you doing here? Rang a voice behind me.

He probably just could not sleep either. Probably due to the fact that he had helped a patient to escape. He sat beside me, and I saw his skin of perspiration ooze. Probably a nightmare. I saw frisonner, afraid of getting caught. I always knew nothing of the reasons which had driven to do that. I let my thoughts extend, to return them, as questions.

-Why me? Why did you choose me ? Why do not you reject me, then you know me well ? You know what I'm capable of …

He smiled as he heard me. Seeking his few words, and talking to me, as the more poetic, he never did.

-Because you're like one of these stars. You shine, alone and in silence. But a star is simple if no one else is with her. It is perfect when paired, he ruffled my hair before continuing. You're a star. And you is not alone. And anyway, if you wanna stay, you will become a shooting.

He burst out laughing before stopping. His face sketched any emotion, only a sharp interrogation.

-This is it! This is what you are, you're a star! cried he at last

-I do not understand ... what do you mean?

I spread my arms in a gesture of helplessness. He had grabbed in theirs own and lifted me into the air, make me turning. This scene would seem be a beautiful setting between a girl and her father. If only I had not been me. He later revealed to have found my name, whose meaning was the first star in Hebrew.

He thought me, star. But I felt otherwise. Meteor, comet. Burning. Reacting to the quarter turn. Fast, unlimited, unrestrained. Marking a final stop, when I crush on Earth. I remembered this boy, the day I arrived at school. I thought he was kinda cute, not a loving way, more of a parental order. He complimented me, so kid of course, but so beautiful that I could not resist. So I ended up blushing and enjoy it, until he revealed his intention to hurt me. Him too.

"You've seen this girl !? I'm sure she's crazy! She wears weird clothes, she don't do the same things as us. She is not normal, I'm sure she have problem in her head. Parents who gave birth to her had to be like that too, maybe even worse. They say she is adopted by a very good family. I wonder why. What they found to her !? We see immediately that she's crazy though. They should look like then! Without doubt her real parents have abandoned her for this reason. Actually, I would have done the same if I had a kid like her. It surprise me that she is nice with a face like that. Looks like she resents to the whole Earth. She should understand that it is her own fault that she is tared. "

I had subscribed to the idea that insulting me would soon, but not to my adoptive family. I can not stand it. They had me greeted with open arms, no problem, no questions asked. Thanks to Sullivan. And even if they do not always understand me, he respected me. They never insulted me, and I did the same in return. But then, this boy here does not please me. And the way he had treated me, and then betrayed, insulted, he hurted me. Me, but not only. My family also. So I mounted a small personal vendetta against him. The snow was still present, so he would not see the hidden scissors, blades forward. I had borrowed to him, anyway. It was necessary that I gave back to him. I was then sitting quietly on a bench, when he was income for bugging me, again. I had listened without flinching, though this time, while a broad smile on my face was needed. Having finally finished his speech, he went away, without paying attention to my leg, strongly extended along the way. He stretched himself out at full length, heaving a long cry that ended in yelling when the blades pierced his jaw.

I left, throwing a last look avenger. Childrens, attracted by the scream, had ran, trying to keep calm. Seeing blood coming out of the floating head of poor little boy. Soon there were ambulances, as well as parents of the child, crying tears of their son's accident. Poor idiots. He saw me differently because of my own parents, but see what you did become him, see and understand how it got there. This kind of accident was inevitable to him, according to education that you gave him. It was all your fault.

From this day, the events went by quickly. Sullivan's family suspected something. They had no idea of my involvement in the accident. The boy could not speak, so he could not denounce me. But when he passed me, his look was transformed and terror resurfaced. Sullivan returned to the Institute one day, told me that the search intensified to find me. He decided to leave. Far, far away. Changing continent. He instructs me to the English language, something I had not too difficult to understand. And we were ready. It was a foggy morning, as during the day when I fled the Institute. It was the first time I saw an airport, a huge place, crowded, too much people. It was incredibly big and I came to pray to do not lose myself . With regard to papers, required for the flight, Sullivan had arranged for me to make new ones. Everything went perfectly, the flight began and I left the place where I had always lived, but where I had also suffered.

My habits are not changed, however, because got there I was alone again. I was too odd, they refused to exchange a few words to me, to speak to me. And I suffered, really, more than you can imagine. Sullivan was there, however, despite all that have told about me. He defended me every time. So I ask you, how did I come to this? How do I have killed him? Him. His wife. Their children. How?


	6. Chapter 5 - I was loving you

Chapter 6

He told me he loved me, I was everything he had hoped. That life without me would have had a taste of emptiness. Something missing. He hoped I would feel any feelings exactly. I saw that he liked me. Despite his wife and children, I realized that his life was not as happy as he would have hoped. But every time I saw him, met him, both our faces lit up, and we plunged into deep conversations that I could not hide anything. He was the one and only, to whom I could express my feelings. So I had chosen this night, especially because it was one of his birthday. His wife was asleep, as always, without paying attention to the fateful hour when the clock announce midnight. His children did the same, exhausted by their day. So I was alone with him. A head to head of the most common.

-What are you doing here? You should sleep, my darling, it's late. Had he retorted.

-But you're all alone here. Nobody cares for you, while we should celebrate the day ahead. It's still your birthday. You should share it with someone, right?! I answered him.

-Do you believe that I really, would not do any desire, to celebrate my forties. No matter that no one is there, all the better for that matter, for I would not want. Wrinkles are absorbing more and more on my face, my muscles are no longer quite as young as before and my vision is blurred a little more every day.

I was definitely worthwhile. And deep down, I suspected that he envied me, certainly. I have this disease, which does not cause aging. My next sentence is imposed directly on my mind.

-Do not believe you old at the point of not being you. Do not think I be disturbed by your appearance, more than I am with mine. Do not reduce to think, because you take one more year, you became ill. You are an incredible man whose wife does not care enough of him and whose children, though charming, are completely insensitive to all the efforts you do for them, all these days that you spent on them. I live with you for some months now, and I feel that there is only me who really takes care of what you feel. As a friend, as a lover and as a father.

A long silence was installed after my rant. I saw her face filled with an intense sadness, which seemed to fade. I could not bear to see him like that.

-I really think, and unfortunately you're the one. Thank you for coming, darling. You are truly one of the few I can count on …

I barely listened, staring continuously. I did not take my eyes off of him. I imagined loss him, not having this contact that was going full and happy every day. I could not keep an idea like this, constantly in my head. I was shaking, just thinking about it. I fixed his brown eyes, I was not let go. He began to find this strange intensity, I saw him gradually move away from me. The only thing I kept his eye was yet a sensation identical to mine. Desperate. "Do not forsake me ... "

I'm here, my dear Sullivan. And as you will too, I never would leave you. I saw these lips parted, but not arriving to pronounce any word. He was lost, nothing could make. It is these situations where we still think our choice is the best, is not it? Yet if I had to let planted as a living dead, day to distinguish, perhaps the course of that day would have changed at all in all.

My face neared him slowly while I watched. My eyes constantly directed his pupils. He did not tremble, he said nothing, he was like death, actually. And I had this impression of being the only one able to remmener. My lips settled on hers and fervently, I was exchanging a first kiss. I continued to ogle, smiling and happy, as he looked at me, astonished. He passed his hand over his mouth, thinking surely a fantasy out of his mind.

-Leena ... I ... I ...

He then got up hastily from the sofa where he was deeply coiled. His attitude puzzled me. He seemed to consider me otherwise. I did not understand. As if at once, by one kiss, he saw me in another way. I'd fathom strangely. What was happening in his head now? I walked towards the kitchen, where I caught a drink of whiskey.

-Any problem? I asked him then.

He looked at me. But not one of those nice and friendly eyes that he used to give a look full of reproach always tinged with a touch of sadness.

-This ... this was not what I wanted. Leena listening, I love my wife, I could never deceive. And I love my children, as well as you I love you. I consider you equal to them, but no more. Do you understand?

He don't allowed myself the time to answer, something that I could also not do right now. He walked towards the door, back through the living room and taking the stairs. I heard the clicking of a lock and then the water flow. He was taking a bath, for sure.

I climbed the stairs to my turn and open the door. He was already shirtless, checking the water temperature. Heard the creaking, he turned sharply and stared at me.

- Get out of here! He threw myself there.

There was no question, I would not let him. But I remained incredulous at the expression on his face. It never behaved well with me. He seemed so cold, so distant. What he believed that I was now, what he thought of me. Of us. Actually, I did not know really. Deep in his eyes, I saw only anger.

-There is nothing I can say, I can do, to hurt you. What I want is your happiness only. It is the smile that I see every day. This is the joy I feel when you take me in your arms. I do not care what others think, I do not care what I am. What matters to me is only you. It's us. I want to be there to help you to do not fall, for everything to go well, so that your life don't be anything else that hapiness.

-But all that you promised me, none of your concern in any way. It is the role of my wife, instead of my child. And you know it. I know you well enough to know what you think Leena. It will not happen, it'll never happen, you hear me?! He lost his temper, his cheeks reddening in anger.

-Yes, exactly, you know perfectly well what I want. It's you I want. You, your love, not the one for your children, but one designed to your wife. Because I know she does not deserve you. She's not worth what she is. Because you're always busy with her without her thank you. I could. Do you remember all those days in the hospital? All days you attended me in this bathroom. Do you remember how many times you saw me naked but you do not touch me?

I laid my eyes on his body, smiling at the sight of it. He was not perfect, but few was importany to me because I loved him. I started on tiptoe, staring hard, running my hand toward the scar left by the end mirror. I could feel his breathing increase.

-You can not tell me that your desire was not like mine at that moment I finally threw him, while at the same time, my lips rested gently on the wound.

His look of astonishment passed in disgust in a minute. He trembled a moment, then in time he hurled violently against the door. My head turned for a second, I heard screaming.

-No, Lenna! There is no question that anything that happens between us. You are my daughter, you understand. You are my daughter and nothing else. No wife, no mistress. Ever!

-You do not know what you said! I told him so.

I got up hurriedly, clung to his neck with force. I did not want to release, but he struggled, pushed me away every time with force. I always came back. I didn't paid more attention to his words punctuated by exclamations. He rejected me each time, and more he did this, more I felt my feelings grow. And when understood, breathless, I never let down, he did something. Unlikely but very real.

He slapped me. You think of a nice bright slap, whereas he gave me more like punch. A trace of violence that he had always hidden. But when he finally understand that we were closer than they imagined.

-You go crazy Leena! He said then, as he read my mind.

-And if you reject me, is that you're crazy...

His mouth was wide open, he seemed lost in a trance. I was preparing to get up, but before I have time the slightest movement, he grabbed my neck. His hands shook me, strangled me. The air was weak, absent. I gritted my teeth, my scars tore me. I stretched my hand on the sink, looking for any object to hit. To force him to stop. I was suffocating when I felt a razor blade under my finger. I took it, and with the last strength that I was staying, struck directly at his chest bare. He let out a cry, and continued to strangled me, more and stronger. I planted the blade again and again. His taking relaxed, just for a moment, then I pushed him and he collapsed into the water still warm, splattering the room.

I looked at his chest where the blood flowed. I approached him. No more perceptible motion, his chest heaved no more. I shook warmly, but not getting any response. I repeated my actions. Once, a second, third. Nothing. I felt tears trickling down my face. I was not looking even more to retain them, it is just too justified. The razor blade was still present in my hand soaked with his blood. She slipped easily, bouncing on hardened ground. I brought my own hands to mouth, hiding my sobs, my vision of horror, suddenly came alive. What had I done?

-Wake up! You do not have the right to drop me!

I could not accept it. But what would I could do well on the other. I kept looking his face expressionless other than this fear, astonishment and rage. It was the opposite of the one I knew. And not in spite of myself, I retreated on tiptoe, without ceasing to look. I closed the door quietly, made my way to my room and grabbed some warm clothes, the dresses I owned, throwing them without restraint in the huge suitcase he had brought me, already filled with a few trinkets. I walked down the stairs at a run, grabbed my adoption papers, still resting on the bar at the entrance. My way to the garage, grabbing a can of gasoline and emptied on the floor the first floor. I saw the flowing liquid on the wood, and while crying, I thought of my loss.

And now what am I? What am I doing? I am Leena Klammer. Now I look at the flames rise high in the black sky. The house soon burned completely, he will not leave and that embers and bones. My eyes do not cry, I have no more tears to cry. I no longer have anything to cry. No one to miss. A siren goes off, a call surely had to warn of the incident. I have only one possible solution. Escape. But where? I searched my papers in a hurry, and discovers a new phase of my life, say, unusual. My dear Sullivan, would you have wanted me to finally give up in an orphanage? St. Mariana, home for girls. That's right, no?


	7. Chapter 6 - The Orphenage

**Chapter 6**

Snow in October? It's a crazy weather. Or is he trying to adapt to me? May well be. Nevertheless, the gust of wind me greatly delay; You may say that I whole life ahead of me. But not really. I'm wearing a coat, too big for me. This is one that Sullivan was wearing often when he went out, for I do not know what to do.

Firefighters were of course convinced of an accidental fire, as it had found no trace of any survivor. The whole family was dead, burnt, charred, burned completely. They would probably stay, hire police investigations that would lead to no end and give up. Resigned. This would take some time, maybe over a month. I had watched for hours. But little did it matter now, because it was just about me. I decided to go to this orphanage, which the brochure seemed correct. He would have probably wished, imagined. So therefore I would follow his advice. Because he thought so.

I follow the panels, I seek the city listed on the piece of paper. It is a few kilometers. I fortunately, life expectancy more than last time, for sure. During my flight to the Institute, I was weak, I hardly remetais. This time, I'm in great shape, I walk with quick steps, decided. The day it rises, the sun blinds me as and as I approach. I dip the hand into the pockets of the coat, emerges a portfolio containing a few notes, and also a picture folded in half. Nothing else.

I stop at a grocery store. The salesman looked at me laughing, not understanding what a little girl like me plug all alone with this big suitcase. He must think that my parents are not very far. I selected a simple sandwish and a bottle of water, about half a liter. I had initially thought about wine, but on reflection, I realized it would not be well seen, given my age. I'ma little too young. I head to the cashier, pay my business. The man still eyeing me, let out a chuckle, almost inaudible.

-Excuse me? Could I borrow your toilet a few minutes?

He questions and imagining as I should be, finally loose:

-Agree my dear, go ahead. But not too long, I would not want your parents are worried.

He tells me a door at the rear of the store. I grab my suitcase and go home. No, I have no urge to go. But then, there were some things that Sullivan had given me and what I had never construed attention earlier because I did not see the need. It's time. Locks the door and I opened my suitcase. Between dresses, sweaters, skirts and other tights, I seek this satin box. It is filled with makeup. There is a red box full of powder, containing other foundation, varnish, remover, shades of colors. There is even a small mirror in which I look. I am sad to see. I look exhausted. I try to hide my dark circles with the foundation, then my face with powder fully effective.

My face in the fresh air, my skin is white as snow. Ribbons are also available in a separate box. I tied one in my hair, looks at me again. Something is missing. I'm still looking, eventually falls on a new small box. This one contains a lot better than rubber bands. Teeth. Dentures. Dentition similar to that of young girl, a child. That's perfect. This is the only detail that I missed. I may have omitted to mention that the hypopituitarism does not apply on the teeth. My teeth are not comparable to my body. Just reality. I install the prostheses, slightly transparent, helping me with my tongue. I cast a glance in the mirror, a smile appears. A child complies, a copy. This is what I am. Now. I tape my hands up.

I flush, rebuilt my suitcase, and walks past the body, releasing a small "thank you" to the seller. I do not give him a look and leave in a hurry. I start my sandwish and continue my journey.

The Orphanage is the result of a small bridge, high-mounted, on a river. This one is frozen by the cold. I make a brief stop. The nuns would never believe my story. How could I have time to make a suitcase, while the house was blazing? With a resigned sigh, I open my suitcase. I took a dress he had given me, it's yellow. I grab my makeup box and closes thwhere the false teeth were. I have in my hands, for any business, my kit, my dress, and my Bible that I had keep. I also kept the family photo. I was, after all.

I throw my bag over the structure. I hear crashing on the ice, which gives the shock. I watch it sink, taking half of my memories. I have no dreams in mind, images that I get nothing, apart from the sadness and complacency. Through the water, I distinguish a person, like hidden under the ice.

-You regret, is not it? She throws me as a murmur. You did not choose my child, he would have killed you. What you did should be doing. Maybe it was an excess of folly for you, but even so you could ignore it.

I had the impression I sized up. That when she saw the tears, she thought I was incapable.

-Do not regret, is not low. As all these people you knew. As this man in particular, because that was all it was. A weak, sickly and frail as a child. If his mind had been interchanged with your body, there would not have the slightest difference. Actually it would have agreed more. So do not be an idiot as he could be. Do ...

-Shut up!

I silenced in one sitting. Tears run down my cheeks, always. I erased a backhander. My mother's voice no longer resonates, but I know she will return one day soon. I would love it falls silent. I pursue my way, a new panel tells me, only a few meters separate me from my goal. The houses along the neighborhood, which seems at first sight, very quiet. The silence is absolute, as if no one ventured out. As if there was one. I look at the facades of brick, cement, concrete. The gardens, where flowers are gone. It's time to finish my journey.

Two blocks of stone along the announce entry. On one of them, an iron plate, where he carved the words. "St Marianas, Home for Girls. 1929" There followed another text, that I managed to decipher, as the snow and cold has concealed. My feet hang, I advance slowly through the entrance. There is a porch, where trees are installed swings, others where there is nothing. The place reminds me vaguely Institute. The same colors, same aligned windows. But the fact is that the place seems much more peaceful than I have known. I climb the stairs, I stopped at the door and raises his hand hesitantly. I finally knock. The door opens, I meet the eyes of the nun. It is totally flabbergasted. I toss him, a gentle voice:

-Hello, my name is Esther

She opens the door fully and welcomes me inside, hugging me. I do not really like this, I have a hard time letting me touch. It does not date from yesterday. There was only one who had the right.

-Where are you from my little? She asks me, trying not to rush.

I drop a quick sigh, think back to what I did. Think of my words to come. My eyes soon fog up with tears. It depends on my life, I have to lie but I will never forget. So I tell her. I lied, I said the fire broke out last night for no reason. That I board had time to save some important cases that I had. Which stood at heart. I told her that I lost everything, but this time there I did not lie. My family died, the man I loved died. Tears flow finally, again, although I can not remove them. It is neither ironic nor a false sense of my feelings. Just one truth. And while she hugs me in her arms, I am crying big tears. Unable to stop.

The nun carries me in her arms, lie down on a bed in an empty room. She takes my meager belongings and put them away in a corner. She muffled in a blanket, measuring my temperature. Gradually, I feel safe. Other sisters arrived, whisper, converse about me. I do not care what they say, think. I risk nothing. The sobs still shaking my chest, I phenomenon that fails to dampen immediately. The sister who greeted me always takes care of me, place a hot water bottle under my pillow. Watching me.

I remain stunned as the first day. I refuse to be my clothes off, I made my wash myself. Go back to bed immediately. The sisters are reassured, as I am too. They try to get me out of my room sometimes, but I do agree that after one week. I do not mean that I was afraid of children, but fear of harming them. I remember the night of Sullivan's death, the madness that had gripped my entire body, that I do not control anything. As in the incident at school, the boy with scissors. I do not doubt one second, a share of the same kind can be repeated. Same here. Children's perceptions about me does not change. But none of them causes me wrong. None of them speaks to me. No one gives me any special attention. At least for the short time I spend with them. The nuns see that I do not intend to change, for none of these children. That being alone makes me more peaceful. They try to keep myself busy, sometimes brings me pretty dresses like the one I love, to please me. She offered me lots of things, but I especially remember the day she gave me a drawing book has, along with a full palette of colors and shades. I had offered them a huge smile, she could never really understand. The painting was missing, because I had not touched since the Institute, almost a whole year.

That's how I am involved. I joined every day in this art that I like. I painted and nuns are watching me, sometimes even decide to expose my masterpieces, because according to them, no little girl to the orphanage is as talented as me in this area. I do not know what I do at the moment. I think just to survive. To live, finally.


	8. Chapter 7 - The Coleman's Family

**Chapter 7**

It took half a year. 6 months during which I do life alone. The girls refuse to talk to me. Only to ask me some questions, which I gladly answered. Without appearing that I really am. Parents do not want to adopt me. 6 months during which I spend my time painting. But even art knows my mind off things. I look back, without stopping, to Sullivan. At all the times I spent at all the memories he left me and that I would share ever, with anyone. I'm bored, relentlessly. Every day seems longer than the previous.

I learned about the orphanage in these corners. First there is the park, as I discovered. I almost never comes out, though, so I do not dwell. When one enters, there is a long corridor. The first door on the left, one can find a large room where the nuns are practicing. Course, mastery of life and religion. The room in front of it is reserved for each meal, this is where it all together. Again, I am an exception and nuns pay particular attention to me to bring my own meals, so I eat apart from others. Throughout the hall stands a bench, and near this one, a new door that opens on the desktop of the Warden. It is, in fact, that of the nun who greeted me. Sister Abigail, I think.

We then find the stairs leading upstairs where the rooms and classrooms. I usually stay only. It's better this way. I even feel more able to express my personality. Painting form, of course. The hallway leading to classrooms and bedrooms and a place where all my paintings are exhibited. Some I made, represented many things missing in my life. The presence of a mother, mostly. My room is from others, even though some girls make me wish sometimes visits. It is true that even being alone, I refuse not the company, when I moved. Only I do not really speak, not as freely as I had the opportunity with Sullivan. Unfortunately, I can not count on him...

I have kept the family photo in my Bible, torn beforehand, so that I only keeps his portrait. I did the same with the other men who have too often betrayed me. I got theirs in rummaging through my papers, that Sullivan had brought back from the Institute, including a copy of my real birth certificate. Copy that I had buried deep in a frozen river, hidden among the clothes, the bottom of a heavy suitcase. My passport was the only information that everyone had about me. However, the sisters, they, do not pose too many questions. Why are these ribbons around my neck and my wrists? Because I create my own fashion. Why always lonely? Because preferred solitude. And many other issues they were confident or the real reasons or lies.

6 months have passed but the days are indifferent. The snow is still there, the monotony is still there. Nothing is decided to change. In fact, I even begin to think that the change must be led. Otherwise, nothing will happen. And maybe it's time that something is happening here.

I'm a painter, as usual, when I distinguish a dark shadow approaching the orphanage. I doubt that new parents are on the way, and even if they choose me probably not, I can not help but go take a look. It is a woman and a man. Undoubtedly, both having between 20 and 40. Any two, brown hair. Any two, smiling at the sight of all those little girls, running in snow. The gaze of the woman moves, watches quietly the Orphanage. I bent down, not wishing to be seen, but once this action made me ask myself. Why? What have I to fear, after all?

I get up, watch them again, me sticking to the glass. This one is covered with fog, following my breath close. I follow them as they enter, marking a stop on a snowman. I lose sight then, and I decided to take my canvas where I left off. Again, it does not affect me directly but my distant dreams.

«You have to give a little,

take a little,

and let your poor heart break a little,

that's the story of,

that's the glory of love. »

This is one of the songs that I learned recently. This is the only one I agreed to sing sometimes to children, because it inspires me the deprived loves. She talks about love, but of glory, of his own glory as a person, whose heart is imprisoned by Cupid. What you need to do to reduce appeal. All the weakness that you must pretend to possess. Or you need to completely possess.

« You have to laugh a little,

cry a little,

until the clouds rolls by a little,

that's the story of,

that's the glory of love »

It reminds me that I was. But the fact is, that I not support when my heart breaks. Because its reminds me too much that night, where he has been destroyed. I can not stand as crying and would not that got a laugh. Because all these things there are for me only illusions that hide a profound truth.

« As long as there's the two of us,

we'll got the world and all it's charms,

and when the world is through will us,

we'll have each other arms. »

But who could I count on besides myself? Sometimes I ask myself this one question: I arrive to convince me one day that my life as it is now built, worth living. That is where my thoughts are now. I hear footsteps retreating down the corridor. May be a little girl she was still watching me.

-Hello? I run, just in case.

The door opens on a man. I admit, is one who has just arrived. I wonder where is the woman who accompanied him.

-Hi, he said then.

My gaze turned on my canvas and I continue. I always whistling the melody, which sometimes not leave my head. The man gets closer, I hear his footsteps, becoming closer. He puts his hand on sheets, other paintings that the sisters are planning to hang one of these days. He look at them.

-All these paintings yours? He asks, looking surprised.

-Yes...do you like them ?

-They are remarkables ! He enthuses

A smile spreads across my face a bit. This man reminds me of Sullivan, a certain way, because there was only him to compliment me. Because he was my father. But the opinion of a man ... I missed sorely. It was an orphanage for girls, after all. Then it was the first to come and see me, all the parents I knew.

-Thank you ... My name is Esther, what's yours? I venture to question him.

He holds out his hand, I firmly seized. As a man.

-John.

He sends me a smile and continued.

-Nice to meet you

It marks a hesitation, and wonder.

-Can I take a seat?

He seems patient, maybe he want to know me a little. Strange. But no matter, if he requests it that way. Why should I refuse?

-Of course

A long silence fell. I do not know if I should start where if I should wait until he runs. I have never experienced similar situation, for the simple fact that no parent ever came to see me. Actually, it does not go up for most the first floor. Since most kids are all down. I wonder how he came to be here. His voice is needed then.

-Where did you get the idea for this one?

Always a smile on my face, I mark a time. Think for a moment that I could find, say, while keeping my "little girl lost."

-My paintings always tell stories. This one's about a sad mother lion who can't find her cubs.

-She's smiling, he notes

-She's dreaming about her babies. It's the only thing that makes her happy.

-I hope she finds them...

He looks so captivated, I dare not even talk to him about something else.

-She will. Look.

I dip my brush into yellow paint and painted the first head of a lion, crouching over his mother. While doing this, I continue the dialogue. He does not leave me eye.

-They were lost in the jungle, and they were so scared because they didn't have a mother, a father. Just when they thought they'd be alone forever they found their mother aleep under this tree. Now when she wakes up, her dream will have come true.

I turned to him and finally launches.

-She'll have her family again

-It's amazing. You came up with that story ?

I nod. Voices come towards us, I mean. New footsteps. Not far. Surely his partner. He gets up and walks towards the door he left open. I turn around and see more closely the woman I was trying to peek earlier. She is brunette, wearing a gray jacket, and simple jeans. It seems a little disoriented, but still conscious of where she is.

-Hey. I want to introduce you, said John. This is my wife, Kate. Kate, this is Esther.

I send him a shy smile as she comes closer.

-Hello! How are you? Nice to meet you, she exclaims, holding out a hand, I seized briefly.

-She painted all these, the man added, referring to my work.

-Really ? Kate is surprised.

He says yes and she continues.

-These are fantastic. These a really wonderful.

I thank her, then she asks me which is what I learned painter. I do not really lie about that point, since it is one of the few activities that I practice for very young, and nobody I've ever learned anything.

-I've just had lots of time to practice, I guess. It's really boring here.

She sat next to her husband and tells me.

-It's boring here? She said, what tears me a new smile. If you're so bored, why aren't you down at the party ?

It is a matter quite normal. But in my case, it's the opposite. If you knew Kate ...

-I've never really seen the point of it. Nobody's ever talked to me before. I guess I'm different.

-There's nothing wrong with being different, you know, she said to me

His comment makes me happy, in spite of myself. I know what I am, and unfortunately that will not change. But that said, I should rejoice, in your opinion? I asks me incessant questions since the beginning of my existence. Without finding answers so convincing me say that the word "different" is something good.

-Well, you two have a lot in common! John adds, laughing.

She hits him, jokingly. Things in common? I do not really think. Not as much as you think. Your life seems much happier than mine. But what should I do now? What else but to seek joy from people who do not know me enough to judge me. Even with hurt, there is no indication that my life should be as poor as has the time. I quote, just two.

-I think people should always try to take the bad things that happen to them in their lifes and turn them into something good. Don't you ?

I am so glad that everything displayed two words identical to mine. I feel these same emotions as when Sullivan was still there. Always agree, never negative. I'm not sure if it was to prove his commitment, which for not to rush me. Maybe he thought I was going to relapse in this madness, which I had never been finally left. Actually, he did not know probably not, but he was right down the line.

I know that ever remember his death makes me more harm than anything else, but the fact is, I will not forget. I will not forget what I'm capable of doing, when I completely lost control of my actions.

The couple continues to watch me painter, as to time casting a glance towards the sister Abigail, who accompanied the two during their visit. She comes to us.


	9. Chapter 8 - Departure

**Chapter 8**

I do not know what will happen. I packed my bags, they are complete of purchases by sisters, for the most part. Clothes on clothes. I take also this last painting, the mother lion and her cubs. I feel that this first meeting was based on a good foundation. So I prefer to remember in taking this painting. Other sisters are busy down my luggage on the ground floor. I look at the room a last time, as I leave, now almost empty. Identical to the first day I arrived. I go down.

The nuns tell me my future parents are doing paper for adoption. I thank them and sit down on the bench next to the office of the sister Abigail. I hear voices outside the orphanage. I do not tend to look for the ear to hear. I already doubt what they can say. Nothing too bad. Surely words identical to those imposed three weeks ago, when the decision to accept me into their family. I get up while the sister Abigail come with me to the door. She opens in a squeak. They both stand there, Kate and John.

-All right, let escape the man.

He turns away while I walk the few meters that separated me from them. I timidly advance to Kate gives me a nice smile. She hand me a hand, symbolizing for me a special affection towards me, which I entered. I let out a sigh of relief, too little to be of concern. Relief because I finally feel in my place, and that since the accident and leak in Sullivan. I finally feel like I should be. But the fact is that nothing is sure to last. I know and it makes me shiver just thinking about it.

-Okey dokey, then announces John.

Kate leads me by the hand, while I make a last look at the sister Abigail threatening our departure from the door. She made a "goodbye" hand.

-Call me if you need anything.

I hope not, my sister. I really hope not. I feel perfectly fine for the time or mental disorders (that I never have accepted but whatever), not physical problem, they are just as ignorant as you. Kate tells him a goodbye, then'm John to the car where she opened the back door. I sit on a seat and while my "father" put my bags in the trunk, it passes and starts a conversation.

-Esther ... you know, we already have two children ...

She stops, open mouth, but quickly resume and espire slowly.

-We have a boy, he .. he called Daniel, and a daughter Maxine, Max finally we call most of the time ... All that to say, you will have to get used to their presence in your new home, as we will have to get used to yours. Do you understand?

I nodded and she continued.

-Maxine is .. it is not quite like the other girls you know. When she was born, there were problems, and complications .. She can not speak or hear properly ... So we can understand that you put a time to think, but we wanted you to know that in as a big sister, you will have to help us make life easier ... have you ever met children like this? I mean is ...

Deaf and dumb? Not really. I throw a smile sorry. In truth, it was mostly Sullivan who had experiences with them. He had learned the language of signs, some basics. Hello, thank you, goodbye, alphabet. That kind of thing. In my turn, I sigh. It's been a long time since I had not thought about it ...

John took the wheel and starts the car. I look at the orphanage away from me, more and more, until no longer distinguish. The road is covered with snow, the trees are frozen by the cold. I do not distinguish these two things through the window. Similar. As some might believe, no sudden longing seizes me. I do not really feel different, just for me. Almost.

-I just learned to sign with the books of the orphanage ...

They do not respond, the silence continues. I look at my hands gloved. Try to remember ... Leena I make some signs, trying to memorize some words. Kate turns when I try to remember my name. Esther. I showed him my exercise. She corrects me, however, giving me the true sign.

-That's TH. T. .. H. Yeah

I take an example and try to reproduce it gives me the same. I question then of other words. I'm not really sure. His back several months. Nouns, verbs, adjectives. Anything goes, until I know my reply on your fingertips - it is true to say-. I freezes for an instant, when the car crosses a bridge. Almost the same as I crossed myself. Come to take refuge at the orphanage. But the fact is that I remember perfectly what direction I walked, and it was the road opposite thereof. I fixed ice water. The last place ... she was back. Haunt me? Somehow?

We drive a few meters before climbing a slope that leads to the family home. What I see looks, in fact, more like a cottage.

-Is this your house? I then asked, stressing "your"

-Now it's your house too. John replies

He parks, cut the engine and Kate just open me, welcomes me. I would smile and references down. I observed the house for a moment. From what I see, it has two floors and also seems built on a large plot. So I guess the garden ... must be immense. A small head blonde shows upstairs. She eyeing a moment and disappears, only to reappear at the entrance door. She walks toward us, a small stride, displaying a wide smile. Kate's words tell me when authenticity what I figured.

-Hi sweetie. Hi. Look who's there !

She stoops to his level and take her in his arms. This picture totally amazes me. This is what I've never known. A family. A girl and her mother. Together. Removing it gently on the ground. I do not leave my little sister eyes. She looks adorable. I put into practice my quick learning.

-Hello, Max! My nams is Esther.

We exchange a smile, friendly. No more, no less.

-She's been practicing the whole way.

She looks so receptive to everything we say. So smiling, happy, innocent. This last point is probably owed to his young age.

-Can she hear? I ask, in spite of myself.

-A little, replied Kate. She was born almost completely deaf. That just allows her to hear enough to read lips.

Saying that last sentence, it goes hand in her daughter's hair and moves her hair behind her ears, as if to show the evidence. I noticed his hearing. It excites briefly grabs her mother's hand and leads us both inside. John's voice rises behind us.

-That's all right, I got it.

I can not stop laughing. Poor man, confined to carry luggage. It is true that their home could be a hotel, so she looks spacious. The wood is everywhere, from walls to furniture to the floor. There is also a rock. Throne sofa in the living room, near a majestic fireplace. I distinguish a dining table in a room next, and a bar where a boy is leaning. Stairs, also wooden, raises the upper floor. John's voice pulls me out of my contemplation.

-Esther, I'd like to introduce you to Grandma Barbara

She gets up and goes to us. I approached her and made a slight bow. I'm not a little princess? As Sullivan was amused to call me?

-It's a pleasure to meet you! I told her.

-That's precious! It's a pleasure to meet you too! She replied, smiling at the little girl I am.

We head to the bar that I had time to see. "Daddy" call my new brother, to introduce to myself. He approached me and eyeing, hands on hips. I throw a "Hello,Daniel" his hand. He replied with a "Hey" friendly, almost ironic, squeezing me. I continue the tour alone rambles a bit. I hear the whispering voice of Daniel to his father. I do not pay attention. The only thing I'm interested in this moment, this is where I will spend the rest of my life. My gaze rests on a mezzanine, where a black shadow. I recognize an instrument.

Oh, I said. You have a piano!

Yeah, answer me Kate. Would you like to learn how to play?

-I would love to.

We then climb the stairs. There is a large hallway that we follow smoothly. Everything is incredibly new ... or sounds. He opens a door, then another and another. Max's room, Daniel and the bathroom. Even their own. However, all the doors are identical and the great hall, I lose a little in the explanations. I realize finally realize that we passed a room without ever entering. I then asked where was my adoptive family that it brings. With a smile they invite me to enter.


	10. Chapter 9: Depth Knowledge

**Chapter 9:**

Sullivan ...

This is the only thing that come to mind when I see it. This famous piece, this is my room. It is almost identical to my old room. I blinked a moment and impossible mirage disappears. I let a whisper, a sigh out of my lips. Imperceptible, inaudible.

The walls are stained pink, but stops there the similarities end. Two windows are breaking the white snow from outside to me. Between the two openings, stands a bed, covered with three lint and topped with white lace curtains. Not far away, a desk on which is placed a mirror, a wardrobe built into the wall, and also an aquarium. We only hear the rustle of the water on the glass. The walls are empty compared to the orphanage which was decorated for some of my paintings.

-You like it?

-It is perfect! I said then.

It's only the day after the first day, but I already feel that this day will be one of the finest. From the beginning, for an eternity, I have dreamed that this day. Since I find myself in abandonment to the sublime abode, with the air of a cottage in the middle of the snowy haze, this one inseparable. My eyes open, despite the whiteness of the sky that illuminates my room through two large windows. I hear Max sneak outside my door, trying to be as discreet as possible. This girl is definitely adorable. I open one of my drawers and started to choose my clothes carefully. Dress, pale pink, blending with ribbons of the same color, I will tie in my hair. I am preparing to descend to the lower floor to get my breakfast, but I do not hear anything else than silence, unperturbed. What's happened? Is there had been an accident? Is a member of this family got informed of my past history? Police she finally, after several months, found the real cause of the fire? A myriad of issues jostling in my head and I can't respond without doubting myself. My heart stirs in my chest. I force myself to stay calm, I breathe slowly. It may be nothing. But it may be everything.

Do not be silly Leena, facing the truth. Do not be weak, do not be a coward. My mind keeps pushing me. I then take the door and walked over to the stairs. At the bottom of this one, the whole family looks at me, all displaying a smile on their lips, except of course Daniel. I have a feeling it will be difficult to establish something between us. Regardless, time will effect.

I fixed the face of Kate and John, and the Max. I lay eyes on packages of gifts she tries not to drop these little arms. She watches over them, and looks at me intently, never ceasing for a second to show his face, joyful and happy.

-Welcome home.

This is a dreamless sleep. No matter, then it is cut by the storm. The Institute distant memory comes back to me, that I do not really want. Storms were very common when I was there. They had become absent, since I was gone. And frankly, I did not miss it. I got up and fixed the black sky through the window, it continually punctuated by lightning. I watch them crash not far, and white glow illuminates my face a strong light. Which is repeated again and again. I stand in silence. My footsteps are inaudible. The floor don't even creaks when I out, in the hallway.

I opened the first door I found. This is Max's room. I suppose that because the decoration of the room leads to the hypothesis. Lightning always sounded but the girl still sleeping soundly. She seems quiet, diving into a peaceful sleep. I look. I think my situation unfair. Or rather, I was. We're both sick. She was born deaf and speechless, and I was born young forever. But the fact is that her parents are accommodated while mine have rejected me. I envy her. And unintentionally, I throw a dirty look. It's wasn't her fault, I know.

This is simply unfair. And I know that my feelings towards my parents are that bad, and never irreversible. While she ... she never feel what I felt. My mind tells me to hit her, but my common sense tells me that the solution is not. My hand touches her cheek, which wakes her up. She jumps at the first flash she sees. Lack of tears. I take her in my arms and drags her into the hallway. I noticed the light under the door and I decided to knock. I hear the familiar voice of Kate.

A few minutes later, I am stuck to my father, while my mother hold her daughter in her arms trembling. John's body is a soothing heat. And for over a year, my sleep will remain intact. It will not be disturbed by a nightmare, or one of those stupid anxiety attacks. It will only be a serene tranquility.

When I wake up, neither John nor Max is now next to me. Kate looks at me from the corner of the eye, until I woke up. My heart misses a beat again. Did she seen I was wearing my ribbons? If so, did she ask herslef what they hide? And if not, there is she also questions about it, as much as I pose righ now?

-Did you sleep well? She asked me, after a minute.

I nod and put me up without waiting another questions from her. Idiot. I set off to my room and hear again the voice of Kate hail me from the place above. She had to wake up, obviously, but I'd done before. Today is my first day at primary school. I so enjoyed my day passed that I did not think for one second after that I was expecting. I sigh and NIOHC me new clothes. Max and Daniel are already down, he is stuck to his game console, as would a mosquito at the sight of blood. It is certainly not, however, dependent on this point. My room is on the eve intact. Reassured, I open my drawer of clothes and began to pick an outfit suited me. I look jeans that Kate gave me yesterday. It's not really my type, unfortunately. Maybe an other day?

I hear the male voice of John, and then the door slam. He must have gone worked on this new plan, present its architecture project hoping for a positive response. From my side I'm heading to the bathroom, go inside, and as is my habit, closes the door. A turn.

A year is almost up. But when I look again, I said, and I realize that time can not reach me. I took my reflection compared to that projected myself the cracked mirror of the hospital. I probably look better, it is sure. However, my heart is as black as before. Anger, grief will fade, I hope, here shortly. I pick up my ribbons delicately. Get rid of my pajamas and eyeing my reflection again. Kid. I take a quick shower, not wanting to be late for the first day, I want to be as perfect as the first. I dry slowly, taking care not to touch my scars. I could make them bleed at any time. What would I do then in this case? I put myself screaming? And if they found blood, would they think that?

I opened my box makeup, face powder me carefully. I finally puts my ribbons in their usual places, let my old clothes in a laundry basket, and down. Three people waiting for me downstairs, two look at me down the steps one by one, as if I was an alien. I see Daniel waving lips and form words that I can not distinguish. He think probably I'm mad, as all through. Whatever.

Kate beckon children from moving into the car, they will leave immediately obey me always fixed.

-You are ... my dear, this is not a dress for school ...

-But I love it! You did not find attractive?

This is my favorite dress, yellow. That Sullivan offered me. It reminds me of is the day when I saw his package in hand. Smile at my astonishment. Laugh when I threw myself into his arms and listen to me when I told him bragging how it was fine on me. He looked ready to spin him, and when I asked him to judge me on a scale of ten he said it was an impossible thing to do. He complimented me, without perhaps imagine.

-Yes, it is a marvel, but I'm not sure it is convenient for school ... why not the jeans that I bought?

How would you like me to explain that the real reason Kate ...

This dress reminds me of Sullivan on all points, that's all. To start the day properly, I said that the only way I remember the horror of his death, it is this one. Wearing this dress reminds me of all the points. She recalls his memory to my mind. She reminds me of the night when I left my madness explode. I refuse her back. I am promised myself, and this is the only thing that makes me remember. The look in his eyes, his bloodied body haunting by death. I refuse to forget, just as I refuse to remove it.

-Are you afraid that the other children make fun of me, right? I thought you said there was nothing wrong with not being like the others.

I truly left her speechless for a few seconds, it amazes me. She finally agrees and tells me to follow. Without flinching, looking thoughtful. But what then? I wonder. And while I sit in the car metallic black, my memories wander back to Sullivan. Forget it had never been part of my plans, and more, it seemed like some things impossible to do. How would you like me to forget the man who had saved me from my own nightmare? Ask princesses to forget the man who issued the lot, ask them to ignore the one that makes you dance to forget to walk properly. My hand touches the fabric of the dress. I do not pay attention to Max and still less to Daniel. I am marble, lost in my thoughts. Thinking of my lost loves, and wondering just why.


	11. Chapter 10 - School

The brief altercation with Brenda takes only a few seconds. I throw her a look full of hatred, a hatred that does not decide to go as easily as I had hoped. I place near the window and distributes my books immediately. As trivial and simple things.

Courses bore me ... really. I already know all of these lessons for years and years. And little change does not appeal to me more than before. I feel asleep, slowly, in a parallel world that exists only for me. The trouble overwhelms me. Students ask me questions, intriguing little. But Brenda tickles me more. She looks at me frequently, and judging me by my appearance only. I do not like her, do not like her at all. And after only one day finished , I said to myself that I would stop the hate when I have found a way to hurt her. Much trouble she made me. That day.

The sledge slips on the ice. She scrapes the floor frozen leaves some white lines. Max observes the lake while I ride on its scope. I feel that it reminded her of something. But the expression on her face, I see she asks herself what it can be. We wonder, without getting close enough to our expectations. Kate then tumbles the house, shouting and gesticulating. She forbids us to go to the lake. And even if she's just a few meters from me, I can feel the fear that emanates from her body. She says to Max, "You know that !" Something terrible had happened. I do not know more for the moment. Only that this place is declared dangerous for the little girl, even if she don't know why.

A few seconds laterbeing reassured by us regain land she come back inside. We are also preparing to go when I heard a small explosion. Followed by several others which succeed.

-Where do they come from? I asked the little girl.

I feel silly in a moment, having forgotten for a few seconds his deafness. I then translate it to her.

-I hear something on that side, I told her the location by the finger. You know what it is?

She nodded and replied. It's her brother who plays with her paintballs. I have a small desire to see how he is doing. Max follows me in the woods around the property, and I head to the pops, which sound forever.

The forest is beautiful, especially at this time of the year when snow covers everything and silence filled the air. I perceive Daniel, pistol in hand, aiming a table on which there are some plastic soldiers. Some tremble under the shock. I was practicing shooting, there is some time. Sullivan was training me, in case I have to defend myself in my future life. He had a gun, but we had also bought bulletproof vests. I remember that sunny day, where the birds sang not yet. The heat was unbearable, but we were both out, aiming targets, hung up the trunks of trees. I remember, look up at the sun shining and despise. It is true that we were in the summer. Sullivan was shirtless, sweating all its pores. We trained however without complaint, because we knew that this was one of the few times that we could spend together nothing to hide.

I see the silhouette of a precise bird, pigeon, perched on the table. Daniel move with hesitation. He sets the bird without a sound, outline a quick movement and shoots one of his paintballs right in the chest of the animal. This one tumbles down from his perch, crashed in the snow.

We approach slowly, while Daniel, running to the rescue of the little creature is on the verge of tears. Stupid and powerless against to his own actions. Be looking at this little animal struggle, I think about all the people I've seen suffer. Those whose blood flowed relentlessly share of exuding wounds. I remember all those. Of all those who never could accept who I really was, at the bottom of my heart and my soul. A stone covered with snow is placed nearby. I walked toward it, grabbed it with my right hand and tend to the boy.

-Put it out of its misery ... it's in pain, and it's your responsibility. I then told him.

-It was just an accident, he replies in tears.

-If you walk away now,it'll strave to death. Is that what you want?

But Daniel refuses. Would I had to leave the bird in its state of almost total paralysis? Do not touch it and leave it, dealing with other predators? I also refuse. I crush his body, barely moving, and let the blood flow around the stone, white snow mingling with the scarlet liquid from the animal.

-It's all right. It's in heaven now. I run then to Daniel

-What's wrong with you? He replied then.

He goes, running without waiting for my answer. I had moreover not. What I could tell him, he would not have understood. We see things differently too reach agreement, this is one thing I am now sure. And frankly, this is something I expected, no one has ever really understood. I would probably had to include Sullivan, this is what you think? I almost, but remember, again, the painful memory of his death, and why he had got there, I realized that it was not really the case. Ultimately.

-I could sing for you. I used to sing for the sisters so they would kow I was all right.

Long hesitation later, she gave me this favor and let me.

I lock the door again, and undid my robe, look at my scars and sighs. It was close. I immerse myself in hot water that Kate sank into the tub and think. To everything and nothing. To him and to them. Different. I close my eyes, but nothing concerns my mind and my thoughts are fluid and logical as possible. I hear footsteps outside the door. I continue to sing, enough for her to hear it and for as much as I do the same. What will she do?

I heard a drawer open, and my heart skips a beat. A thud sounded like someone falling or something. What does she do? I think as much as I can, and suddenly realizes. My Bible. That's what she found at. But what would she do with it? She would probably be intrigued and she would let it to it own place. While wondering what could well push a girl my age to have a book like this. My eyes widened. What an idiot I am. And if she opens? What did she would discover? The faces of several men. And what will she ask? Who are theyhow are their pictures do they arrived there, why am I in their possession. Perhaps she would research. It might even get to traced back to the hospital. I tramples in the water, I feel silly, stupid, incompetent. "Protecting a secret is not something simple"

Sullivan's words come to mind. He was telling me that often. But he often told me he would always be there for me. To make my happiness something real, and that despite the fact that I'm different, I did not deserve my fate. He had touched me, worn my feelings and my pity. As he continues to do so, even being dead.

My scars hurt. The excitement seems to return the old pain it gave me. I touch my neck, expecting to see blood dripping from my fingers when I retire. "Do not worry, everything will be alright" You talking about! You only make things even more difficult, than it is already.

I get out of the tub and re-dons a white robe suspends the heater, hiding my scars carefully. I unlocked the door cautiously. Kate's silhouette is present nowhere. I look on both sides. There is nothing. I rage internally and promised not to do anything stupid and unnecessary as it does not address the subject of her discovery.

Daniel is an idiot. Or trying to make me understand anyway. He can not see me, especially since these friends ally all against me. I'm subject as incessant bullying kids of "my age." Daniel does nothing to stop it, even as my brother. He participated in the event that I caused. Me, my weird clothes, my solitary attitude and my invisible emotions. Oh, and Brenda. This little pest is really a sadist for his young mind. Most students of the school are afraid of her. She is their leader, in some way. She is to her advantage and has not failed prove it to me today.

I was just following my course my arm was charge of book and I strolled in the hallway, trying to join my class. I was done with this tide of students who stare at me, all going in the opposite direction. I did not know where was the damn room. And I was in a weak position, something I hate. On a moment, a student shoved me, dropping all my books.

-Watch it !

I recognized the voice of Daniel. I was crouching, picking up my books, and I give him a disapproving look. He looked at me fixedly, and laughed stupidly, as if he had just witnessed one of his jokes. More concerned about the conversation he had to start with one of his friends, then he turned away. The topic? How brave little Daniel had stood up to his adoptive sister. I understand that this is children but these are just bad kids. Without respect for different people.

Silence settled slowly around me, without knowing why. And I did not care elsewhere. What I wanted was to get away quickly. I ran my hand to my Bible, but another grabbed her before I had time to grab it. The small crowd of students began to form around us. I got up and stared, without apparent emotions.

-Is this a Bible? Asked the little pitched voice, this little idiot, who constantly looking me trouble.

I nodded and she began to scream, the arm up and proudly wearing my Bible as if she had found a treasure. It was only mine, it was my treasure, he belonged to me.

-Tjesus Freak brought a Bible to school today!

Students passing stopped, looked at the altercation between Brenda and myself. We were both face to face. I looked at my Bible, floating in air, at the end of his insignificant little fingers. She began to smile, a tight smile, and handed it to me. I also flaunted a faint smile, but I knew she would never finish it. I tried to withdraw the book from her hands, but she never let it go. These friends encouraged him "Hang Brenda! ". I began to take advantage of his little duel imposed, until finally my hand slips. In the space of one second hers described a circle arc and she dropped the Bible, this one tearing in myriad leaves, and crashing to the ground. I threw myself after them and grabbed as much as I could. Combining pictures of men between pages. I hoped that no one has seen.

I heard a "congrat" and while I gathered my pack of leaves and was preparing to leave, I felt her presence behind me. I did not pay attention. She could not do more harm than this second humiliation. Fury shone in my eyes, mixed with sadness suddenly. Wondering why, again and again, my life was so unfair.

-Oh, little doggy. Is this your collar, little doggy ?

Her hand moved on a ribbon, brushed my scar of a millimeter. I could not handle more. And I screamed. Pain ghosts, memories resurfacing. The hospital, doctors, nurses, my straightjacket. The impression of die every day. I was struggling, but nothing more surrounded my body than the empty. And silence hanging over the whole assembly. Students' eyes staring at me, some giggling. While my cry ended, I felt more ashamed than ever.

I picked up my Bible and was leaving on current. Away from these students judging me now, with still more astonishment and scorn than before.I arrived in the school yard and as the wind blew my hair, I cried. "They are all so stupid. "I only thought it, saw it. The woman I was did not understand this rejection, wanting to destroy a being. I wanted to be someone like the others, even knowing that I could never really do. I wanted people to focus on my values, not my weaknesses. Happiness and not sadness. Life and not death. But when these memories were strongly awakened, my self-esteem was again, finally crumbled to dust. Beading tears from my eyes, I remembered all my life, knowing that there was not much to say. My birth, my abandonment. Then blood, madness, love and these three repeating arguments in continuation. Endless. Aimlessly. If it is suffering.


	12. Chapter 11 - Jessica

After the incident, I had been summoned to the director. But I did not open my lips. I put a new plan in place, not knowing where and how to achieve it. But I swore internally that Brenda was going to pay. My day was finished, and I waited John, with Daniel. My altercation with Brenda had made things worse. He threw me a dirty look.

-I hope you're proud of yourself. Everyone thinks that we are a crazy family because of you. You can be happy.

-This story concerns only me. I do not see why everything should relate to little Daniel, and his reputation. You're an idiot and your friends are as much, dare to judge a family after a small incident such as this one.

He said nothing, and without voice, he departed from me. He knew that I was right, but he was too sure of himself to admit it. John arrived. He stopped and let us go up. The ordeal was finished today. In part.

Piano lessons may seem difficult and complex. That was my first impression when Sullivan taught me to play. I looked at him move his fingers, both sides of the ivory keyboard. He did not seem troubled, neither by the number of key or by the speed of its partition. It was the opposite for me. And seeing me, septic, with the idea of teaching, he smiled and ran his hand through my hair.

-Come on, you'll get there. Do not worry, I'll be here if you need me.

It is this last word I think. Kate teach me the basics again, but even if the piano is her passion, and she has a lot of enthusiasm and knowledge to disclose about this art, our relationship mother to daughter is divided as to become a relation master to student. This is different, and the atmosphere is increasing more and more. We play a partition together. I do mime false notes, I do not want her to know that I already know to play. Not at the moment. I talk to her maybe one day soon. When true alliance can be formed between us. And if ever? Then she will know nothing.

Ending melody, she congratulate me, and I replied negatively, my mistakes, made this sublime work totally ridiculous. I saddens me, saying that I would be more careful. She smiled at me intensely she looks at ease with me, or believe to be, seems to be. But this is not my case. She comes to the point.

-Your teacher told me what happened today.

I display a pout of regret, copy it, trying to make me laugh. I'm not ready for that, not in these conditions, not now

-There's nothing to talk about.

This is the sad truth, and I am a little sorry. Besides if I had to explain all this in detail, she would find me strange too, and would be even more intrigued by the Bible, which she discovered in a drawer in my room. She does not seem unhappy, may be she thinks it is better for me she did not care too much about these things. She grabs a notebook behind the partition, placed on top of the piano. I saw it, but I do not intrigued, so I do not see why I have had to leaf through it.

She opens it and look at the family photos, scroll through the pages. The fact that sharing memories with me, makes me feel the urge to create a contact. But it was not really what I wanted. I wanted her to learn to know me. Before you can get to tell her what prevents me from talking to her, honestly. I want a mother, a mom and not a chaperone.

-Who's Jessica? Max talks about her.

My voice ends in a whisper, and I look at the face of Kate. This one seems appalled. Max did not say anything really important, but often said she was happy that I was there. While Jessica was missing. I did not understand at first. I stayed silent and listened to the little girl, cuddling if she wanted to cuddle. I can at least boast of having offered plenty of love to someone in his family, no one rejects me.

Kate gets up from chair when we were both sitting and tells me to follow. I stand in my turn, and as she opens the window overlooking the indoor greenhouse, I said to myself that I finally have luck. Jessica should be an exceptional human being, because her disappearance seems to affect the whole family. Actually two people now. Kate goes down to my height, and stares at me, like in a trance.

-Who is Jessica, Mom?

Once again, this is only the breath out of my mouth. I look at Kate in my turn, watching her eyes, these, slightly dilated. Rimmed with tears. Preparing to leave. I would maybe not, talk about that now. And I then realized that some of her seems detached from his humanity. I just see her, overwhelming sadness, and while she does her eyes off me, I understand that I am her only hope of happiness. I put my lips on her cheek and gave her a kiss. I feel the salty liquid flowing from her eyes. I retire and she take me by hand. We are entering the greenhouse.

This is the first time I come in this piece of the house. This is not really a piece of it, but an interior garden. The flowers are very poorly represented, however. Most of the greenhouse is made as dense vegetation pots are displayed on wooden tables and rare flowers visible, are of a pure color that I would recognize among a thousand. A color that always brings me back to remind me of this place. White.

I look at the roses, and my eyes fell on the metal plate in the middle of flowering. Kate's voice unravels, and with greater sensitivity she could express up, she read the inscriptions.

« I've never held you, but I feel you.

You never spoke, but I hear you

I've never knew you, but I love you. »

Three sentences cause a stir in me the most important. These three phrases that can be likened to my life. These phrases, returning to induce me and inform me that the disappearance of my memories will never happen. My face is broken. I've never been able to establish contact with my mother because she died shortly after she had placed me in an orphanage.

She could not have a dependent child, and especially not a sick child. So she had abandoned. I grew up inside. I think forget this would naturally be and without any real complications. I'd never spoken nor established real contact. But her image came to me when my first instinct was freed. When my madness becomes impossible to control. In those moments, I saw my mother encouraging me to do evil. Because if I did not do it, then I do not get out myself. I was going to die, because life would be over me. The sickly child that I was and I still am. Here I stopped my comparison between this text and my previous life. Two important people hiding inside it, and one of them was at my side. At this precise moment. She knew nothing of me, was nothing more than every people I had known. But she loved me. Despite having lost a child, and have been greatly affected by this loss. She had tried to forget. But like me, this was impossible. My lips let out my thoughts.

-What happened to her ?

Fixing the flowers, I thought she did not hear me. Several seconds passed, but I heard her breathing untie. Until she manages to get her answer.

-She died when she was still in my tummy. But we scattered her ashes here ... and as long as this plant grows..then part of her will be alive inside it.

Her sentence broke my ears like a heart beat. I turned my face to hers, she did not want to perceive my resentments. I feel helpless, like I never had been. Until then, the sadness that I felt had been a shift among many others. Like each time I saw the blood flow. But the death of a child ... the idea seemed impossible and improbable. Unimaginable.

But yet it was something real. I was dead, my life was dead. But less than was Jessica. I continued to live, no real reason or justification. While she had no chance. The injustice of life distressed me. I feel, in my turn, tears running down my cheeks. Mom ... mom ... how I hate you. And I heard her voice taunting me, through my mind, « Me too darling, I love you. »

-She would have been lucky ... you're a great mommy

My sentence sounded pathetic to her. But for once, I do not want to obey her. I wanted to have my own thoughts, my own vision. I watched Kate tirelessly, realizing the place that Jessica had left was now mine. I hated myself for having been the "orphan replacement." I was, in fact, since that time, a void combleur for the family who had adoptedme. I do not deserve this place.

In turn, Kate puts her hands on my cheeks and seeing my face as dejected as her earlier kisses me on the cheek and take me in her arms. She cuddles and for several minutes, thanking me, and repeating to cry while I slowly recovering from my emotions. I felt her hands stroking my hair gently, and I still think about Jessica. I let go, because I know that it is the act, the most friendly that I could give her so far. I want build trust, too, before all to say. Time of this afternoon, I know that link is connected between each of us. I have no doubt of its truth. But I refute the idea being that the orphan service. And I intend to prove them wrong, Jessica dead or not, I am not a thing. Jessica ... It is true. She would have had much luck. But this was not the case.


	13. Chapter 12 - Fool

Chapter 12

-I know, They fuck.

The surprise on her face settles, and I turn away. I paint her brown hair, and I do not hear words. She goes silent and leave me alone. I fell into a small Puritan family. They probably imagined that my spirit was as pure as a virgin. They want to protect their "offspring" of the twisted mind of grownups, maybe? What do they think Daniel was in his wood cabin? For sure he is not amused with these remote controlled cars.

I knew I had astonished her. I thought to react differently but my vision stopped me. I saw once more each stuck to one another. They disgusted me. Do such a thing in the kitchen. And of course, my little phrase would sow discord, to their common relationship. Who am I? And where I come from?

I adored this beret. I did not like hats, but this one was my taste, I really do not know why. He accorded perfectly with my outfit today. The day was bright, the sun had barely disturb the white clouds. The sky was overcast but the lack of wind prevented the constant cold. I smiled thoughtfully. I lift my eyes to one of the many cumulus. Sometimes when I was younger, I imagined a prince flying on a cloud identical. He picked me up and we went and lived happily in a tower built in the same sky. It was a bit strange as a concept, I grant you. But ... there is nothing more beautiful than dream, especially when you're a kid. Bad thoughts do not damage your nervous system as it do to a later age. I want to stay forever in a similar way of thinking. Not change. Remain a kid, on both planes. Impossible, unfortunately for me. I still run, on a track that no longer indicates anything. I wonder what I'm looking for purpose, who I'm looking. Is there someone, anyway? On this road paved with rejections and other misfortunes of time and life? Don't you think that life is unfair sometimes? Of course you must. Think it hangs by a thread, it is where the danger comes. Fear. Weakness. Do not be weak. Be yourself, only.

I noticed Brenda on her pink bike, matches with her outfit, like me and my beret. I throw a smirk, she freezes the space of three seconds. Then she goes to one of the wooden buildings. I then ceases to follow, to take a look at John. I admire the way he can take care of Max. The way he looks is in any case different from that which he perceive Daniel. They consider them equal.

I admire this man. Maybe because he is my father, this is true. But maybe because he reminds me someone ... It is not overly handsome, muscular and not even shaved. All he wants is a family, happiness. This is probably good sometimes to look what we have no idea. What is happiness, John? You should teach me one of these days …

A woman walks up to him and starts the conversation. Her neckline is plunging to the point where her bra could become apparent that this would pose any problem. I see, right now, what she aims. John hesitates to her offer. She offers him to come home, to move furniture. How he hesitates intrigues me though. Furniture is furniture. He finally agreed, however, involving Kate in history. Assistance can be useful?

Meanwhile, Brenda gets out of his shabby scaffolding, laying her eyes on me, like a harpy. I never fail to return her gaze with as much hatred as I can. I hate, I hate her, and a little voice inside my heats and told me to make her pay for past humiliation. I got up quietly from the swing on which I was perched. This is the moment of truth.

Dinner went wrong. Even badly. For me, but also for Daniel. His parents must think he's a brat, ultimately, everything he is. A brat, stupid, stupid, uninteresting. Retard camp. Learn the meaning and reality of such a place, and you can tell how it is. He left the table without asking for his rest, after having swung a few insults before. He does not intimidate me, I've seen tougher. Think you, a kid of what, nine years old? A danger to me? His surprise me much.

But I fear more Kate and John. They are more understanding towards me, but still not enough. I know they do not believe in the story I told them. Who would believe it? What a joke. Anyway, I'm immune against punishments for the moment. At sight of my status as "sad little orphan girl," they allow me a second chance. But it will probably be the last. I hear Kate and John through the walls of my room. Their conversations are like all conversations of torque. But the tension is palpable among them. I do not know where it comes from, but I am determined to find out.

And if the sister Abigail knew? If she had discovered the truth? The fire? Sullivans death? The circumstances were impossible to determine. But I feared for my life. My future and my past life. It should escape of any mouth, the subject should not spread. Then, Kate and John, but especially Kate, would be plagued by doubts. And low confidence that I hadn't, until then, very little sustained, will go as fast as the wind blows in this season.

-I said, no !

Kate resume is telephone and hand me a plastic bag. She orders me to pick apples, take a simpleton look , like sometimes when she's talking to Max. She should also tell me what are apples, just in case I will ignore. I'm so stupid. I sighed and grabbed Max followed me up the display. Sign language has almost no secret for me. I am free to tell the girl what I want, even some things that his parents did not understand the meaning. I take an apple red, but my mind is elsewhere. Scarlet apple in hand, white complexion that my face appears. Hello Snow White. We only need the flakes falling again and again. But through the windows, I see only the persistent fog, stay, despite gusts of wind shaking the trees. The image of the Institute is more and more to me these days. The day I ran away. On days when my crises were triggered, for no other reason than the pain. Ill-being. Fear and anger. Fear is control, not anger. Not in my case. I remember all the sensations. Stifling tissue on my bloody skin. Scars flowing with liquid, warm and vital. Needles pricking my veins every day. Repeated examinations and infections. Rain touching my face when I passed his head through the window of my bathroom. Lightning dazzling me every night. There was a day that I will never make up my mind to forget.

My eyes was still lost, lost in reflection silly and improbable. Live happily and have many children? A shiver down my spine while I was lay, my straightjacket retaining me. I could only fix the white ceiling. I did not know what it was that happiness. A feeling? An emotion? But what does it mean, exactly? Nobody had ever learned me anything. Nobody deign to give me. Happiness. I realize that it is this lack that I may be given the death. By dissatisfaction. Nobody wanted. I was alone. And about children .. my chances are as low as the water in my desert of agony. Dissipated as the memories of me and my mother together. Ever. Nothing. Total and absolute nothingness. I was an ignorant. And I acted as if I wanted to be rejected. I succeeded in the end. They saw me crazy, a murderer, a small pest, out of control. This is not what I wanted. Happiness. It was a word that I had not, because it was my dearest wish. But people can be more selfish than expected. And life, more difficult to maintain in a hostile environment. My mind is confuse, and I find myself thinking about my mother. This woman is all the fault. She would have had to kill me. She would have saved me this way, face to all my problems.

I feel a liquid through my cheek and blend, mix with dried blood at the base of my neck. I grit my teeth, hates me. For what I am. Tears down my eyes, some reach my lips and I feel the salt water dry gradually, slowly. Anger is growing, as my tears disappear. I wake up with a sharp blow, trying to get up. The straps holding me tightly, and I hear my spine crack. I moaned and before my vision blurs through pain and injuries, I have time to see several doctors and nurses at my bedside. A whisper goes from my mouth unintentionally.

-What is love? Tell me …

The car screeches on snow, we pass on the bridge. I look on the ice water, revisiting the scene where I threw my suitcase carrying all my memories. Max sign me in words, but I did not answer. I need to find something to distract Kate from her impressions. She wants to play detective? Then indices will rain. Maybe make her understand what I want, it would be the best solution. However, my thoughts are impossible to describe and my future seems so dark and deep that abyss. What solution should I choose? Which vision? Mine? And how could I when I do not have a clue what I really want?

I do not help. I think one of the few times that I could share with Kate, summarize this damn piano lesson. Girls stow shopping, and I sit down on the stool in front of the black mass. My fingers rest on the keys. A chill is what I feel when they come into contact with ivory. When Sullivan put her hand on mine, that was how I felt. I shuddered, and we started to play. Sometimes each our turn or him and me. Together. Happy. His favorite partition, was the most complex I've ever tried to play. I often tried, I had learned by heart, but I never finishing without false notes. As if some things tying me up to do. "Les Saisons" by Tchaikovsky. That was the name. In silence, and without thinking, the melody is reformed at my fingertips. I played. I wanted it perfect. The notes chained, but I did not mark any stops. I was far from being a virtuoso. But I did anymore false notes. Like magic, the spirit of Sullivan was breathed in my ear. Everything he had experienced everything he loved. And it reminded me of all these afternoon, where we kept playing. Ending the partition that had formed in my mind, I just stared black and white keys, remembering my past. In silence. Until she trouble.


	14. Chapter 13 - Fear

Chapter 13:

Happy? Hearing voices from the room next to mine? I do not really know. Is this not a form of violence, an argument broke out because of you, and you're happy? After the rapid interaction between Kate and I this afternoon, I knew it would now be difficult for her to believe me. Whenever I was lying to her, she would for sure know. And if that was not the case, she would seek a way to check if what I said was true or not. But I had to know. Because even if Jessica was not there, I knew that Kate was always more concerned by her, but by me. A little jealousy without doubt it is true. However, I am alive, which is not her case. I should be the center of attention, but she is more and more distant. Because, the more I force her to confide to me, the more I see how she changes, and she relates to Jessica, her death and her loss. This way Kate is totally different from the one I knew when she and John came to the orphanage. Only hers. John, he continues to defend myself. He knows me even less than his wife, and yet he seems to have great confidence in me. What should I say? "You're wrong"?

My dress is dotted with scarlet spots. Red. Blood. The hammer that I hold in my hand is covered with the same substance. Drops dripping from the handle, drop in white snow. I look at the body of the sister Abigail. I feel the rage rising in me as a monster that grows inside your own body, without you really want. Without that you get to control it. "You made the right choice." A voice whispers this phrase from the depths of my flesh. All my bubble cells. As if my body did not belong to me. I am no longer myself, I do not feel myself. I feel only my motherher soul, her mind trying to creep into mine. "Kill her! "My eyes settle on the girl in front of me.

She looks terrified. By me, by what I've become, how I transformed. Within a few minutes, I'm not, and would no longer be the same person she has known. Malicious, horrific creature she would haven't seen in a dream. I stare, anger is part of me. I walked over to the little girl as she shakes her head. She's scared, she's scared by she should not be feared. Her sister. Her .. sister? But am I really? Who am I really? A family member, or simply this orphan, so different from others? Kill? Not kill her? No replies. My mind is blank, as if the presence prevented any thought. Should I follow my instincts? But what instincts? Manipulation, that's all I can do.

"Help me hide her. "

As we drag the body of the woman, to the edge of the lake, Max continues to tremble. All its members. Clenched, she does not dare say anything. In those few minutes, no sound comes out of her mouth. No whine, no tears. No gesture. She's ... a corpse? Also? Russian roulette is not the same without a gun. I wanted to play, but I touched her. As I felt the bones of the sister Abigail, crunching under my hammer. I felt her joy fly away, her children spirit flee. Her face is serious, no feelings other visible fear.

When we returned home, we exchange a look. She walks with me, and I know she can hardly believe what she just saw. But this was real. The arrival of the sister's alliance against her, the car skidding on ice, the lifeless body. Death. The word resonates in my mind, just like hers. She surely would flee away from me. But how is it possible then that I share her life?

I interfere my clothes stained with the ones I already have into a ball in the bag. This is the one they bought me for school. I'd pretend to have lost. Anyway, I'll never use. I put the gloves, too, in a pitiful state. And the weapon. I finally hides secrets under a wooden plank. Max always looks at me. She gives now a certain depression. Her eyes are red with tears flowing unabated. She is only weakness against me. A semblance of anger, that's what I seem to read. She mime.

"-You tricked me.

A shiver course my back. The space of a second, I understand that what she was thinking along the way.

-That doesn't matter. They'll send you to jail just for helping hide her.

I threaten, but it was not really what I want. Scare her, I do not need it anymore. Only make her realize that denounce me is not the right solution. Neither she nor for me.

-I had to kill her, because she was going to tell on me.

Her face is still sad, her eyes blink and new tears appear in the corner of her eyes dilated.

-You're not going to tell on me. Are you? I finally asked.

She shakes her head. Negative. I feel hurt by all this. I should not have brought her, I would not have had to ask for her help. I realize who she is. Unlike me. A child. A small thing, fragile and innocent. Whose mother seems to be a good person, but shows only happiness tarnished by the death of their baby. And whose brother does not care. John remains.

Unwittingly, I feel closer than ever to my little sister. Because now I know who she is. A victim, just as I was when my straightjacket held me back. Every day, every night. Her jacket to her is her disability, the fact that it is silent, but it is, more a member of this family. John, the one who truly cares for her. John. Sullivan. My Sullivan, I miss him terribly.

-Don'tt worry, you're my little sister, I won't let anything happen to you. I love you ... "

These are just whispers, but the snow outside covers other sounds, also my voice is pure and clear. Unfortunately, she did not care. Because she hears nothing. I know she understood, thanks to signs. But a sign is identical to the text, is not it? How could she know if I believe what I said, she did not hear my voice. Neither emotion that emerges. Or anything else. She knows nothing. She is deprived of real emotions, other than its own. Alone.

« -Huuuush...

His eyes open with fear, his body recovers quickly into a curve that I broke the blade of the cutter on his neck. We can not say that I have been looking far away. He was quietly sitting on his nightstand. No doubt Mr. The Cowardly wanted to protect from something. Or someone. Actually, it is not a very discreet. His breathing is as noisy as noticeable. Breathless, no doubt. Maybe he was looking at me and Max. I immediately understood that he was hidden when he saw us down from his cabin. He had to to find it strange. Was it not closed?

-Tell me what you saw, I told him.

-What are you doing?

I ask again, waiting for his reply. The tension in my voice is urgent, as the blade of the utensil on his neck. I scared him too. His body trembled, his face seems almost frozen. He still seems weaker than his sister, yet so young compared to him.

-I saw you with Max in the tree house.

-What else?

I grab his hair, pull violently. He groaned. My face above hers, his eyes fixed, while my hair cascading around his face. This scene seems romantic at first, but "our" young age taken into account, this is totally inappropriate. Oh, and the cutter, yes.

-What do you mean? He asked me to turn it trembling.

-What else did you see? I press.

-I didn't see anything else. I swear.

I swear. What kid did it. Under his airs, I now know that it is only a wimp. Surrounded by boobies just as stupid as each other. But I know he's telling the truth. By fear. Per bond, or if he knows that I could probably cut his throat.

-Did you tell anyone?

-No ... I didn't tell anyone ..

Lie, is not it? His voice was hesitant, for a short time, but not impossible to collect. Mingling between moans, accented. A quick smile lights up my face, but he did not realize. My arm all the way down his body. I straightened his head a little to see where it stops my hand. See you, Daniel?

-Please...

He begged me, but I hear nothing.

-If I find out that you're lying, I'll cut your hairless little prick off before you even figure out what it's for. Do you understand me ?"

He replied in the affirmative, while a distinct sounds share his crotch. Disgusting. I plan his head against the pillow, remove the cutter first, and disappears in the hallways. Before leaving the room, I hear moans longer present. Turning into tears. His honor has taken a hit.


	15. Chapter 14 - Psycho Spirit

Chapter 14 :

See a psychologist? For John, this idea was more than silly. But after the confession sister Abigail, this was what had been agreed. Dr. Browning asked me for an hour. I showed myself to be friendly, knowing that I shouldn't reveal anything decisive. Who could intrigue. I was a little girl of 9 years, I do not know where I was born. My mother had left me in an orphanage in Russia, where I had been recovered by Sullivan. Then there was the accident, fire and everything else. Death. This conversation reminded me the one I had, held with sister Abigail, when I arrived at the orphanage. It now seemed to me that our two paths was not really made to cross. I didn't knew what to think about her intentions for now. Of course she wanted my happiness, but denounce me in this way was improbable. I'll seemed improbable the day we met. She was not supposed to ask herself questions, but had nevertheless conducted her investigation before I bring an end. I realize that her intentions towards me was, in fact, quite the opposite from what I imagined when I was still inside the religious building.

I stood alone so much. With whom to talk? Why talk about it? The sister probably asking a lot of questions she could not answer, just like me when I arrived. The murder of Sullivan had assigned me to a point where it was impossible to go back. He was all, but not dead. Abigail ... I wanted to thank her. But I lost control as with the man I loved. A monster? This is just what I am?

Dialogue with the psychologist is not completely nonsensical. He clears my mind, in a sense. This is on my side. I express my feelings, the way Kate has for some time.

There have been the moment at the beginning when she seemed sympathetic, but I recently realized that it was only a facade. To mimic a false pretense of kindness, that behind, concealed the immense pain, and impossible to forget her newborn death. She tells me nothing about my adoptive mother, but I suspected that her silence was not only had to professional secrecy. So I paid attention to all my family members, one by one, describing, analyzing, while the woman in front of me watching me, not cutting me to ask me new questions that could deepen her reasoning.

Then she took me back to the door. It was the tour of Kate, John by her side, not really knowing what to do here. I stayed alone on my chair, but a ball tied my stomach. Something was wrong. I took the way to the toilet, and I locked myself in a cubicle. I sat silently on the cold tile floor, I thought. I knew I had made a mistake. But I was still looking for. I knew I wasn't controlling me for some time. I had become increasingly irritable. Since Brenda and her accident. Since my adoption that ultimately came to nothing other than what I already felt when I was in the orphanage. Grief, loneliness, sadness. My place in this world was still undetermined. Because I did not know how to fill the void of Sullivan. Despite almost a year passed, I kept wondering what had made him think I was a good person. Better than another, better than another orphan. Better than any kid.

I often ask questions unanswered. This is not metaphysics. I would not say that. I would say that every question is indispensable to me, to my well being, but to my survival. Emotional control, the fact of holding really want to mean to imprison? Just as I was in the hospital? Sullivan had made me free, I was free. But only with him. Nobody else had ever understood me. Also, what was really being free? Was it when the feelings overwhelm me, or let my anger explode? Free. This word remained unknown to me. Blur. And all my thoughts crossed, mingled in my mind of child. My brain which was the most developed of all my members.

Recent events were only fragments of memories that ran and still returned to the inside of my skull. I did not know what to do, who I could count on. Kate? I could not count on her. What about Max? I knew I should have killed her. I knew what she had seen me do was something a child should not see. I knew her childhood would probably be difficult, because of his deafness. And I added an obstacle. I was looking for a way to not blame me but the fact of having made him live such a thing was something bad, I agree. So yes, maybe the killing would have been a better solution. But it was also a bad thing. So what would I have done, after all?

-She saw nothing ... she knows nothing …

I bumped the head against the door of a cab, stuck to mine. My head. The thing I wanted to stop hiding constantly.

-She's so stupid.

I was talking about just Maxine, but also myself. Silly to have thought of take her. Silly to have thought she could keep such a secret. "You get weak, my daughter. You have took attention to what I've said to you, over and over again. What do you think so? That acting in good little model girl, you will become a better person? Do not forget who you are. "My hands seemed sweaty on the floor, a heat settled in me, but I could not do anything. I was controlled, owned by this woman I knew nothing and did not share anything. Only a single DNA. I was nothing to her, she was nothingness and pain for me. Her critics made me crazy, her words made me furious, her single voice. I could not hear her anymore. I wanted to be able to decide alone what I wanted to do. Yes or not kill. "You can't decide Leena, at last, look at you. So silly, so childish ... so young! "I could hear her laughter echoing all around me, resonate long. It smashed on the walls of the cab, calm down, its power. A mirror effect.

I swung a kick in the booth in front of me. Then a second. Her voice was steady, was not mine to go, even for a second. I stood and knocked again. Bumped with fists this invisible image in the eyes of everyone, but which consumed me inside. Rage carried me. My only weapons were not violent. It was only her own creations. "Listen to your mother, my dear, I just want you to be okay. "

This echo was still there, talking to me. Sound is pictured as an ultrasound reaching my eardrum in its maximum power. She wanted to make me deaf. Ruin my life a little more. I continued to type, but it was useless. Even the cry I uttered did not stop. Nothing had any effect on it. Since she was, not that I like it, a part of me.

The door is locked. Nobody bother me this time. Nobody will intervene. Nobody will be part of this dream that I cherished that I secretly reached my maturity. Nobody is stopping my amorous feelings to volatilize. Never, under any influence. I want to trust myself. Not share anything with anyone. I am my only need. My only confidante and my only family.

The room is dark. Perfect. My heart is pounding but I can not do anything. It only stops when I contemplate the wall, covered with sheets of paper. Each wearing one of my stories, each hiding a secret. But there is no time to show that my life is almost just as dead as the bodies of my victims. No more time to dwell on children's drawings, paintings simple and fast, totally void of deep feelings. They represent only my desires happiness. A family. It was what I wanted, but this visit has shown me that the road on which I have engage for access is impossible. I fixed a pot of paint that John laid this morning on my desk. Invisible? Except under certain lamps or lights ... it could become interested.

I sets to work. I see the flowing liquid slowly spread over the lines, gently form a flame. A drop. Blood. Patterns of all kinds. I create and modify my own way, as illuminated as I'm supposed to be. All my fears are displayed. The Institute back, my escape also, and research. Sullivan, death and fire. And all the others I've killed. I look real slideshow. My secrets are all there, before my eyes. When the switch turns off my aquarium, I found this blackness that I can not resist. She pushes me in the darkness. But I'm not afraid. I back on. And everything is there. My life, my past, my present, my future. I can not tell anyone directly, but I can externalize my memories through art, through painting. My mother finally disappeared. But for how long?


	16. Chapter 15 - The Link

Kate strangely leads me. Since the body of the sister had been found the day before. To tell the truth, it also concerns me and makes me be wary. John is not different. He's always the man that I met at the orphanage. Friendly, welcoming. He is, in fact, even if we don't see often, because of his work, the person who respects me the most in this family. Maybe also because he doesn'tt know me enough to touch me.

Anyway, I swallow a sip of milk that I just used, and puts the glass on my desk. The cold liquid comes into contact with my lips, makes me shiver. Awakening my taste buds, making me hungry. This is however only the start of this afternoon. I don'tt know what to do of that day. No events are planned, Max is with her brother, and I don't want to join them today.

I drink again. I feel strange these days. As if something had entered into me since this visit to the psychiatrist, and was remained hidden. Without me really noticing. I don't hear this frightening and paralyzing voice. I don't hear my mother, pretending to control myself. I only want one thing, that she disappears once and for all, of my life. For no longer have to worry about my sudden attack of anger, and memories of incessant cries of the Institute. Mine, theirs, fools. Those walking the corridors, livid face, legs trembling, looking for a lost soul. People screaming at each movement of nurses, that bit and struggled constantly. Those who tried to appear as normal ... even if they weren't. Ever been.

I look at my hands trembling. My children's hands, hands that I do not realize to be mine, more those of a distorted picture of reality. I look at my own reflection in the mirror placed in front of me. I want to feel free. Free to be what I really am. A woman, not a child, frail, helpless. But did I ever really acted like the woman I am. That I should be? Since when a woman is she a murderer, and since when a woman terrorizes children, because her face and clothes are covered with blood. I don't deserve this status, as much as I don't deserve my life, the past and the future. A tear flows from my cheek, like a part of me, that falls from the clouds, but will never die. The fire only burns in my heart, anywhere else. Everything else is dead and unconscious life. From my own life. But what should I do? Give up?

But how could I? "Don't be a weak! "A phrase that this voice in my head, has often repeated.

-You might be right about that ... this is not what I am ...

John is really a good person. Or rather innocent? As innocent that I could be ... if he knew. Postpone an appointment, to the dentist moreover, would have seemed foolish for any other father. Is he trying to hide the truth? But what truth, he doesn't even know. All he sees is this girl trying to paint for days. Silent, sometimes motionless but still his child. That he has to protect the world.

I told the truth. I expect a father like him for so long, that I dare not imagine. The missing, terrible lack, which seems disappear on this day. In the space of a few hours, I feel that my relationship with John, with my father, has never been stronger that at this moment. As strong, as with other member of this family. Even Kate, even doing the best she can, treats me constantly equal to this newborn death. To this regret she forever has, her own lack, by using me as a copy. A hobby? Is what I want to be? In any ways ...

- Why are you so ... different?

His face showed his amazement, and it was as if something intrigued him. He probably not supposed I could ask such a question. So I just need to know.

- Why are you so different from others?

It wasn't really an answer, but rather a new question. One that I was asking, myself.

- I don't know ... maybe because ...

He listened to me, not annoyed nor disturbed. Only attend to my words.

-Because I ... I'm not like anyone. Because I am at ease. Because the woman I am is enough. The way I live doesn't bother me. I'm trying to be what I am ...

He ran his hand through my dark hair, putting up some black curls floating in the wind. A smile froze his lips. I looked at this man I loved very much. Because, thanks to his own will, I was free.

-Stay as you are.

That day ... it was a beautiful day in the summer. I wore a simple skirt without tights, with the breeze gently caressing my calves. I was no longer taken in my prison of canvas, no more attached with these straps of iron, over restraint as we retains a hostage. Free. That was the word I never known before. Like happiness. And I lived, I felt these two emotions spread through my body a benefactor energy. It was no longer even happiness. It was more intense than that. More intense than anything, more than just a feeling. It was a ball that tied my stomach when I saw it, it was the air that I missed when I spoke to him, it was jerky beating of my heart when he took me in his arms. It was .. my father. And I was his daughter.

This fireplace was really huge. And the amount of wood he had was more. Fire launched high flames, which were burning, nonstop. I was squatting near this one, returning from the cold and snow, back, too. We were in December. I can still see the snowflakes falling on either the bay window. White pine, and the birds nevertheless singing.

My hands were frozen, reddened by the cold. But my state wasn't comparable to the one during my escape. I was almost naked, I had a bathrobe to cover me, and nothing else. I had everything here, but we can not immunize themselves against the cold forever.

I joined the house, the hot air was missing. A delicious smell floated in the air and I knew that Sullivan had something to do with it. He handed me a cup, and while I breathed the scent and drank a sip, he sat by my side. I blushed unintentionally due to fire, but also because of his presence. I couldn't help with it. I drank again, trying to focus more on the drink that I was holding than on the man who was now close.

- It is good at least? He gave me.

I smiled and nodded, again carrying the liquid to my lips. Hot chocolate with a hint of sugar. Greediness. But it warms up, at least.

- You remember ... when you arrived here?

I looked at him now, without noise, his face turned outwards. No feeling was perceptible, other than indifference. Was he proud of what he had done? Or was he not?

When he finally put his hand on mine, I knew he felt no regrets. He encouraged me to become someone. Someone other than the person he had known at the Institute and that he had attended more than once. I posed his chocolate near the fire crackling, always. Then I surrounded his waist of my arm looking ridiculous face his corpulence. And though I want it, tears began to flow through my eyes. Not I wanted it, I returned the fragile creature he had met and helped, months ago. When these own arms surrounded me, this heat reappeared. A heat, indicator, but more than that. Heat of happiness. Our arms intertwined, we formed a bond. Indestructible, unbreakable. And only then I knew what to say.

-Of course ... I couldn't forget.

I touched the scar on his neck, slightly similar to mine in the same location. A connection, that was it. And maybe more. I had hoped.

Hope is not enough. Hoping comes only from the soul, of its inner self that grows to imagine, fantasize. Delirious. It was just a delusion for the insane that I am. So, what should I do? If I only hope what could I get in return? The love of Kate, improbable. But am I really that she think I am.

I have to make her disappear. Jessica. It was as if her ghost still haunted the house. As if she were the only obstacle between me and my happiness. As if Kate saw, finally, her instead of me. Imagined that I was the little girl died.

Lack, I know that. But a person can not be replaced by another, to the point of sharing her love in two. Am I selfish? I do not think so, just ... I refuse to be what she wants me to be. I refuse to be weak.


	17. Chapter 16 - Accident and Accusations

Chapter 16 :

Are you a coward, Leena? This is only a broken arm. Nothing more, nothing less.

I press a rag in my mouth, so it can cover the sound of my voice. I stuck between my lips, in addition to the cloth, screwdriver where I could unleash and give vent to my pain. I rest my forearm in the machine. My skin, touching the cold iron, makes me shudder. I grab the lever with my free hand and began to spin.

How should you consider me now, Kate? While I'm in your place, in your bed, close to the man you love. That soon will not want to you as you are. Look at you, look for the discomfort. What am I to you Kate? An orphan, to whom you want to give love of an other, a woman who will never be able to be her mother. How do you want us to be close, if you do not give me what I want. Nothing more than true love. Is it something hard to do, shame for you? You think that the memory of Jessica erase if you did that?

Despite all his thoughts, the most positive towards me, I can not sleep. Despite the fact that my father watches over me, as he has always done since the beginning. I got up quietly, my arm sending me a release of pain I try to ignore. I look through the window, the snow falls for a short time. I'm a little lost, I really do not know what to do. They are always questions that illuminate my mind, without any answers arose. Lost time. No, my efforts are certainly not in vain. I would be able to accept me, but it is still necessary at first that Kate forgot this morbid souvenir.

While thinking about what I could do to finally understand it, I sit on a sofa, while facing the bed. It was the first time I really felt in my place in this house. Even if it wasn't really .. I would surely have been in my place in a bed surrounded by stuffed animals and other childishness. For a child, this was no doubt. But it wasn't me, and I had enough of this comedy. Always play, never live.

And when the first lightning split through the deep black sky, the snow pushed by the strong wind, fell increasingly hard on the campaign, I saw what could help me. A notebook identical to the one she showed me a few days earlier. But why was he under the bed?

Her diary. It was all the secrets I discovered, everything I needed to make her forget. To understand her how I perceived things. Differently. I had all possible evidence. Max would not say anything about the accident, it was safe. I could not forget the expression of fear on her face. Tears coming down her cheeks gently, and this impression of torture. She had seen death. Many times, without really understanding it, but by living. Her whole being.

The part where Kate talks about the lake, well describes these facts, and is also the idea I have toward her. A former alcoholic, who had eyes only for her bottles of wine, while her daughter drowned in a lake. Kate was scared to death, because she had lived also, indirectly but just as close as if she had experienced herself. She was on the wire.

I wanted to make her realize her mistakes, show her to be more careful. Do not turn from her position as a mother, she seemed increasingly forgotten. About me, but much more about Max. That's why I just told John. After the car accident that "mom" had been in the morning, Max was still in a state of shock. But the little girl was unreadable, did not speak more than before, seemed away. Even having seen me operate the handbrake, I knew she would not dare to denounce me. Because I was still her sister I was supposed to protect her. And that's what I wanted. I didn't expect the bad, although I would probably do.

I told John that Kate hid us something, and when he found a bottle of wine in a closet, he no longer sought track. For him, the evidence was there, inevitable. And later in the evening, he had placed his ultimatum. Kate would go to rehab. Even knowing that she had done nothing to hurt Max, she accepted. Pretended to accept, because I knew she would not give up, not now.

Now I was in my bed, thinking about all these possibilities of leakage that had touched my mind. During my conversation with Kate, a few minutes ago, I'd finally been able to perceive the intensity of her hatred. I knew she wouldn't give up her dream life. As much as I would not give up mine. And these two lives could not, in any way, coexist together or side by side. One of us wouldn't be, and yet, I was winning on this point. The challenge and the game was something that I had no difficulty exercising. But then, Daniel bother me.

Although the flames are high, seem to touch the cloudy sky, grazing, little, it's nothing like the madness that takes my heart. This is nothing like the smile that appears on my lips, like a sadistic little girl I'm not nor want to be, but I no longer control. This suffering, what I expected, suffering a boy I'm just render. Where is the harm in that?

I look at his figure struggling on the roof, slowly succumbing because of smoke that rise toward him. The cabin will collapse within a few seconds, it is only a matter of time. I see the fear on his face, through his screams. He called for help but no one come, no one will come.

His mother will soon be gone, Max will dare suspect anything when John .. I know he will not accuse me. This supposed to be locked cabin, Daniel probably could steal the keys to return to. This is only a hypothesis, but it could be true.

But suddenly I see his body tumbling, sliding beams where he miraculously hook. He seems lifeless, none of his members are shaking. None of his movement is perceptible. Death? Are you Daniel? "Fool and powerless over their own actions. "That's what you are, is not it? That's what I always thought, ever since that stupid bird died. Realize that all this comes only from you, it is only a relation of cause and consequence. Nothing else. And you shall be solely responsible.

When I raised the stone with both hands, it feels heavier than ever. My heart swells again in a wave of hatred, anger, regret, but also sadness for this being who did not understand and will not understand.

"'Do not worry, you're going to heaven"

It is only a whisper escaping my lips, a breath from the, burning, flames behind me. A breath like a movement, fast and inaudible. I feel my body rock before I realized what was happening, and stone slips and falls on snow, stained ash. Max stands beside me, and her face shows that expression I've ever seen her. Newly rebel suddenly heinous. And I hear a cry, cry of terror, cry of horror, yet in no way comparable to those of Daniel. This is one of Kate.

My brain bubbles, no one can perceive. I fumed inwardly, I made mistakes. "Still faulty dear," said my mother.

A soda, this is what I found as an excuse. To escape, away from those who hate me. Away from their strange thoughts and doubts. John always innocent me, he thinks I have nothing to do with what happened to Daniel. But my dear John, why you seems so harmless? Why are you so different from each of these people? Why your opinion is not the same as theirs? Once again, a whole bunch of questions piling up in my head. Without answers come. Without resolution falls within my mind, other than suffering. When I met a nurse first, I mime a smile. A smile, distorted, which disappears from my face, As I advance into the dark hallway.

Dark, it is more and more. And it is my view that blurs a way that I no longer recognize. My legs are fixed, straight, motionless. I walk like on two crutches, like if my arm was not enough. Not really, it's just a feeling that my mind gives me. "Hi mom. "I speak inwardly, knowing that she's the cause of it. And suddenly, I wonder subconsciously what I really have to do. If this is all just control of my mother on my person. Or, take control of my life in this family.

Existential questions? They really are. One fault is irreparable, one dead and all can fly. Anything can go up in smoke ... but could also be set. Everything could be cleared in the eyes of everyone. I think of Abigail's sister ... and then to Sullivan. Dead.

Is this miserable life would have been the same without them? If they were each stayed in their place, if everyone were unknown to me. I finally feel guilty in this story, but as a victim. Victim of time, illness, perpetual bad luck. I am part of a time that I do not understand, will never understand. Questions that come up constantly. Am I still this murderous, this insane under camisole? I am that girl, lost in a new world she knows nothing. No response was ever imposed. So I only search.

Search for a truth that escapes me, whenever I try to find out. The happiness I'm trying to conquer that escape, love ... love is only a feeling, stupid, ugly and bringing my sadness and hatred instead of natural joy to all couple. Love is non-existent in my life, long life does not seem to be. Yet.

"-You are so useless ... "

This is only my own thoughts. But without a doubt, they are mixed with those of my mother, her morbid and disturbing mind. A person who haunts me and will not let me go.


End file.
